


Time May Change

by nikkithedead



Series: The Life Chaotic [2]
Category: halemore - Fandom, teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Recovery, Sequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-05-02 08:55:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 82,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5242319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkithedead/pseuds/nikkithedead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year after the events of "The Life Choatic," Jackson is on the mend and getting better every day. Together with Derek and the others he's become a protector of his town. But with more threats arriving in Beacon Hills every day, it seems as if things might begin to change. And not for the better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Witching Hour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so here it is, the sequel to The Life Chaotic! I'm going a different route here, one that's a bit lighter and more humorous. Obviously there will still be dark and serious subject matter, but nothing like the previous story. Any trigger-possible things basically involve references to what happened in the last fic.
> 
> Oh, and "graphic violence." That one sticks around.

* * *

“If the living are haunted by the dead,  
then the dead are haunted by their own mistakes.”  
―Chuck Palahniuk, _Damned_

Some people call midnight the witching hour, but the truth is that's just superstition. There's nothing much magical about midnight. The night's magic comes when the moon rises, no matter what the hour is. The hours of the day and night, the times people set their watches and clocks to, none of that matters to those sorts of forces.

So when the midnight train pulled into the Beacon Hills station, the hour was not much more than a coincidence. And though the hour was not magic, the girls which stepped off train were. They each had a single bag with them, and neither girl looked or spoke to anyone as they departed the station. They kept close to each other but didn't touch.

The first girl was dark skinned and wore her long brown hair in braids. She had dark, snapping eyes and on her neck was a scar shaped like a crescent moon. The same symbol marked the neck of the second girl, who was fair skinned and dark haired.

The girls walked into town silently, said not a word to each other. Everything to be said had already passed between them long ago. Nothing else was left, and the girls preferred it that way. It was better to finally be acting on it all, then talking it over as they had for so long.

Most of the town was asleep as the girls walked through it.

It would not be long now, before people began to die. Cops would search for the killer, or killers, but they would never find them. Never even be looking in the right place.

No one would see it, but it would be right in front of them.

The girls were home once more.

 

 


	2. Changes

* * *

"Time may change me,  
But I can't trace time."  
—David Bowie, _Changes._

* * *

 

Upon later reflection. Jackson could admit that the plan had been faulty from the start. No, faulty wasn't the word. _Stupid_ , that was it. The plan had been incredibly stupid, and Jackson even more so for agreeing to it in the first place. Now sure, he had in fact agreed to a lot of stupid things over his life time, but none of them had ever resulted in his hanging upside down in a dingy cave, about to have his internal organs devoured by a Jewish vampire. Therefor, of all the stupid things he'd inexplicably said _yes_ to before, this had to be the stupidest. So stupid, in fact, that it deserved to be acknowledged out loud.

"This," Jackson muttered, as the blood continued to rush to his head. "Is the stupidest thing we've ever done,"

"Oh, I don't know about that," Commented Boyd, who was dangling next to him. "Remember the time we were all convinced that our new math teacher was a hag? So we tried that binding spell on her, and it turned out she was just unattractive? That was pretty stupid,”

“Mrs. Cailleach _was_ a hag, I don't care what anyone says,” Erica grumbled, spinning slightly in her shackles next to Boyd.

“Yes, but when the binding spell failed, all we got was _embarrassed,_ ” Jackson hissed. “And I don't know about you two, but I will personally take embarrassed over _captured_ and _eviscerated_ any friggin' day!”

“Calm down, Jackson, no one's going to get eviscerated,” Boyd said. “We have at least three full days before any of the Aluka drain our blood and eat our organs,”

“You know, I'm not feeling reassured,”

“Hey, _aruchat-erev,_ shut the hell up!” One of the Aluka's called. Jackson hadn't even heard any of them enter the section of the cave they were dangling in. It was disturbing how quietly the creatures moved. They didn't seem to breathe either, or posses audible heart rates. Except for the whole walking, talking, blood-drinking thing, they may as well have been dead. “Just because we can't eat you for three days doesn't mean we can't hurt you as much we want until then,” The creature smirked, and its black eyes glinted. Jackson grimaced.

The smirk slipped off the Aluka's face as a noise sounded in the distance. There was shouting coming from the other cave, and Jackson could here the creatures calling to the others to run.

Jackson smiled. “Hey, leech,” He called. “Get fucked,”

The Aluka looked up at him, barring its teeth. “ _Lekh tezdayen,_ ” It spit. It opened its mouth to say something else, but before he could there was a _zing_ noise, and an arrow appeared in its chest. The Aluka looked down in surprise for a moment, and then a blade swished through its neck, and its body and severed head dropped to the floor, revealing a machete-wielding Allison.

“ _Eech,_ nice one,” Erica said.

Allison looked around, then spotted them hanging from the ceiling. “Anymore in here?” She asked, her eyes scanning the room.

Jackson shook his head, but then saw a blur move at the mouth of the cave. “Behind you!” He shouted. Allison turned around, heaving up her machete and bringing it around to sever the approaching Aluka's neck. When the body fell, she pulled something wooden out of her sleeve and brought it down on the Aluka's heart—a stake.

In the other section of the cave, the fighting and shouting grew quiet. Allison stood up and wiped her brow. “I think that's all of them,”

“Allison?” Scott called, running into the cave. “Are you alright?”

Allison rolled her eyes. “I can handle myself, Scott,”

“I know that,” Scott said softly. “But are you alright?”

Allison nodded. “I'm fine. Are you—”

“You know, this is a sweet moment and all,” Erica pipped up. “But do you think you can have it after you get us down?”

“I second that,” Boyd added.

“Oh, not me,” Jackson drawled. “I'm having a great time, please continue,”

Scott looked up at them, frowning. “That's pretty high, any idea how we get to you?”

“Find some cheerleaders, build a pyramid,” Erica suggested.

Boyd shot a looked to Erica. “A ladder would also work,”

“Jackson?!”

Jackson's heart sped up slightly as Derek ran into the cave, looking distressed. He was followed by Stiles and Isaac.

“I'm up here!” Jackson called.

“We're here too, in case you cared,” Erica said.

Derek, Stiles and Isaac stopped and looked up at the three of them dangling there. Stiles smirked. “Hey guys, how's it hanging?”

Jackson bared his teeth. “When I get down from here...”

“When you get down from there, I'm going to kill all three of you myself,” Derek snapped.

Jackson pouted. “Ah, come on, I could have died!”

“Exactly,” Derek shouted. “You could have died. All of you could have, and when you get down here...”

“Uh, Derek, sorry to interrupt, but _how_ are we going to get them down, exactly?” Scott asked.

“Well, if we had some cheerleaders...” Isaac began. Derek glared at him, and Isaac trailed off. Erica grinned.

“I'll take my jeep back into town and grab a ladder,” Stiles said, moving towards the cave opening.

Derek shook his head. “We don't need a ladder,” Derek said. He looked at Allison. “Shoot them down,”

Allison nodded, and grabbed her bow from her back, notching an arrow.

Jackson swallowed. “Now Derek, I know you're angry, but lets think about this—”

— _Zing—_

— _Zing—_

— _Zing—_

Jackson fell though the air, and into Derek's arms. He smiled, relieved he hadn't fallen to the ground. “See, you still love me,” He said, leaning in for a kiss. Derek allowed him a forceful but short kiss before setting him down, muttering that that was besides the point.

Isaac had caught Erica when she fell, and he set her gently on her feet. Boyd had been caught by Scott, who looked between Jackson and Derek and then back. “Don't get any ideas,” He warned. Scott smiled and shook his head, and set Boyd down.

“Nice shooting,” Derek said, nodding approvingly at Allison. She nodded stiffly back. Derek looked at the bodies of the Aluka's on the floor. “Did you two take care of them yourself?”

“Allison did,” Scott said.

Derek looked surprised. “You took out two on your own?” He asked.

“Just call me Allison the Vampire Slayer,” Allison said dryly, collecting her arrows off the ground.

“Hey, I thought we agreed not to use to _v-word,_ ” Stiles objected. “They're _Aluka,_ remember? Completely different,”

“They drink blood, Stiles,” Jackson pointed out, not for the first time. “They're pale and dead, they hunt at night and they drink _blood_. That sounds like a vampire to me, whether or not they don't eat pork on Fridays,”

Isaac frowned. “What?”

“That's a Jewish thing, isn't it?” Jackson said uncertainly.

Boyd sighed. “If you're Jewish, you're _never_ supposed to eat pork. Not just on Friday's, Jackson,”

“Then what happens on Fridays?”

“Shabbos, the Jewish day of rest, is from sundown on Friday to sundown on Saturday,”

“Oh,”

“Look, we're getting off topic here,” Stiles interrupted, waving his arms. “Ok, yes, the Aluka drink blood. But they also eat organs, and _that's_ not a vampire thing. That's more on level with ghouls or something,” Stiles raised his eyebrows. “They take their victims at night, and then hold them for three days before draining their blood, dissecting their bodies and eating their organs. They do that with their _claws,_ not their fangs. Vampires have fangs. Aluka are _not_ vampires,”

“Can we just all agree to disagree on this?” Scott asked.

Stiles looked hurt. “You disagree?”

Scott glanced away, shrugging. “I mean... they're pretty similar...”

“Similar, yeah!” Stiles said, his voice raising in volume. “But not the same!”

“Enough, we need to leave,” Derek snapped. “I have a lot of screaming at my pack to do, and if we don't start soon we'll be up until dawn,”

Jackson groaned, and Derek glared. “Fine,” He sighed. “Let's go,” 

* * *

 

Over the last year, Jacksons world had turned on its axis. The life he'd known had all but disappeared, leaving behind one he at times had trouble recognizing. Most days, he was incredibly grateful, and wouldn't have gone back to the way things were for anything. But every now and then, in rare moments of darkness he would feel a strange longing for the person he'd once been. He couldn't have said why he felt that way, and he knew in his heart that it was wrong, knew that he was better this way, better off and so much happier...

Still, every now and then...

The life had known had been miserable, and lonely. He'd been afraid all of the time, always struggling to be better and work harder in a futile effort to feel like he was worth something. He'd been a selfish person, and cruel. Caught up completely in his own drama, his own self involved self loathing. The suffering of others had meant nothing to him. Hell, at times it had even given him joy.

It had been a terrible way to live... But it had been what he'd known. And sometimes he missed it. Missed the comfort of misery, the familiar arms of fear and hate wrapped around his shaking body... missed the ease of selfishness and cruelty.

Now he worked hard, every single day, to make sure that the person he had been would never again see the light of day. Together with his pack, Allison, Scott, Stiles and Lydia he fought to protect Beacon Hills from the supernatural forces that constantly plagued their town. Derek told them that magic called to magic, and after their run in with the Hasting sisters, Beacon Hills had become a literal beacon for the supernatural. They'd dealt with a number of different demons and creatures over the last year, fighting off everything from dark fairies and were-spiders to unicorns (which were actually a lot more threatening than one might think).

But that wasn't the only change he'd made. With the encouragement of his parents, friends and Derek, Jackson now attended weekly therapy sessions. It was a long, ongoing process but Jackson thought he was making some progress. He was having a hell of a lot less nightmares, at least, so that was a step in the right direction.

Through out all of the changes, all of the ups and downs and twists and turns, the one thing that had remained the same was Derek. Derek was his constant, his rock. The person he could count on time and again to be there for him, and whom he knew he would always be there for in return. The person he loved.

In a way, the love was different than it had been a year ago. It was less desperate, less all consuming. He no longer felt that Derek was the only thing tethering him to the earth, no long felt the need to cling to him as if he might slip away if he let go.

It was different now... but no less strong. In fact, if it was possible Jackson would have to say he loved Derek even more than he had a year ago. And everyday he knew him, every hour they spent together, it just got friggin' worse. It was like a disease, this love thing.

Not that Jackson had any interest in a cure, of course.

Not now.... and not ever.

No matter what they went through, no matter how things changed or how much time went by, Jackson knew that he and Derek belonged to each other, forever.

That was just the way it was.

And Jackson was just fine with that.

* * *

“What the hell were you three thinking?!”

Jackson, Erica and Boyd sat on Derek's couch, all trying to act less ashamed than they really felt. It didn't feel good to be yelled at by Derek, but none of them wanted him to know that.

“You know what, don't answer that,” Derek continued, crossing his arms over his chest. “Because you _weren't_ thinking,”

“Aw, come on Derek,” Isaac said. He was standing at the kitchen counter, making himself a sandwich. “I bet they thought about it a little,”

“Don't try and help them,” Derek growled. Isaac shrugged. “I want an explanation. _Now,_ ”

“People were _dying,_ Derek!” Jackson blurted. “We swore that we would protect this town, keep the people in it safe... we did what we had to do,”

Derek shook his head. “No, we would have found another way. Going out and getting yourselves captured was _not_ the solution,”

“Come on, you know we had no clue where the Aluka were hiding,” Erica said. “How the hell else were we going to find them?”

“We would have found—”

“Another way, we know,” Boyd interrupted. “But how many people would have died before that?”

“You could have been killed,” Derek said, more quietly now. Jackson felt like stomach sink. He hated that he'd worried him, and that he'd been so stupid in the first place. “All of you... you could have died,”

“We knew you wouldn't let that happen,” Jackson said. “We knew you'd save us,”

“It would have been easier to save you if I'd been in on the plan,”

“We also knew that you wouldn't let us go through with it, if you knew,”

“Damn right I wouldn't have!”

“That's why we gave Stiles the information to follow the tracking device,” Erica explained. “Because we knew he wouldn't stop us,”

“Mmm, I'd wondered why you'd chosen Stiles,”

“Scott, Allison and Lydia would have stopped us too,” Boyd added. “Stiles was really the only option,”

“I get that,” Isaac said, walking over with his sandwich. He plunked himself down on the loveseat. “What I don't get it is why you left _me_ out too,”

“Couldn't risk you telling Scott,” Boyd said. “Sorry, man.”

Derek sighed, and rubbed his temple. “Alright, fine... I understand that you thought you were doing what you had to do... but why all three of you? Wouldn't one person being captured have been enough?”

The three of them exchanged glances. Jackson swallowed. “Actually, uh... it was only supposed to be me that was captured,” He said. Derek's eyes narrowed. “Erica and Boyd were supposed to follow them when they took me, find their cave and then message Stiles that it was time to send everyone else in.”

“And what happened?” Derek asked, the anger beginning to ebb back into his voice.

“They were _really_ fast,” Erica said, wincing slightly.

“And quiet,” Boyd added.

“ _So_ quiet,” Erica agreed.

Derek shook his head again, turning away and then back again, as if he couldn't even stand to look at them. “This is exactly what I'm talking about. You're plan was _extremely_ flawed, any number of things could have gone wrong! You're all lucky to be alive,”

“Don't you think we know that?” Jackson said. “We know we are, and we know the plan was stupid. Dangling upside down for three hours while vampires talk about the different ways to prepare your spleen doesn't exactly make you feel like a genius,”

“Good,” Derek said. “I'm glad you all know what complete idiots you are,”  
“Trust me,” Jackson said. “We do,”

 

* * *

After Derek was finished yelling at them, Erica and Boyd went back to their houses, and Isaac retreated to his apartment. The apartment had originally been refurbished for Jackson, but once finished had been claimed by Isaac, in favour of giving Derek and Jackson the main apartment to themselves. Mostly he just slept there, as Derek hadn't been willing to let him take the big screen television down the hall with him.

They lay in bed together, Jackson resting against Derek's chest as he read the newspaper.

“Have you ever considered getting glasses?” Jackson asked, as Derek turned a page.

Derek's brown furrowed. “Glasses? Why? My eye sight is perfect,”

“Yeah, I know, but they'd look sexy,”

Derek frowned. “Mmhmm,” He murmured, focusing again on his newspaper.

Jackson sighed. “Oh come on, you can't still be mad at me!”

“Oh, I can't?” Derek replied, in a tone that suggested he clearly _could._

“Come on, I said I was sorry,” Jackson whined. “Time to let forgiveness in,”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Derek said. “We'll see how I feel,” Jackson sat up and grabbed the newspaper out of Derek's hands, tossing it aside. Derek raised his eyebrows. “You've got a funny way of apologizing,”

“I fucked up, okay?” Jackson said, moving into Derek's lap. He wrapped his arms over Derek's shoulders. “What's it going to take to get you to forgive me?” He leaned in and brushed his lips over Derek's, biting at his bottom lip. “Please, just tell me,”

Derek put his hands on Jackson's hips, digging his fingers into his flesh as he deepened the kiss. Jackson moaned slightly. “There's a documentary on _Aswangs_ playing at the Riviera next month,”

Jackson groaned. “Fine,” He mumbled.

Derek grinned. “You're forgiven,” He said.

“But at what cost,” Jackson said, sliding off of him. He reached over the side of the bed and grabbed Derek's newspaper for him. When he sat back up, Derek pulled him in for a kiss.

“I love you,” Derek said quietly.

Jackson smiled. “Good, you'd better,” He said, kissing Derek back. “It is _possible_ that I love you, too,”

Derek placed a hand against Jackson's cheek, stroking his jaw lightly with his thumb. “I just want you to know, that's why I'm so mad,” He said quietly. “You put yourself in danger today... and I know we're always in danger, and I know you're tough... but you acted stupidly, and you could have been killed,”

Unsure what to say, Jackson just sat there, looking at Derek. “I know you want to protect everyone, keep everyone safe, but you need to keep yourself safe too,” He voice was soft and sad sounding. Jackson thought back to the moment when Derek had run into the cave calling his name... how distressed he'd sounded. Had he been worried he would be finding Jackson's body? Jackson hated himself for putting Derek through that. “I've lost too much family already, Jackson,” Derek said. “I can't lose you, too,”

“You won't lose me,” Jackson said, grabbing Derek's hand and squeezing it. “I promise, Derek. You're stuck with me, for a hell of a lot longer,”

Derek smiled, and gave Jackson a soft kiss. “I can handle that,”

 


	3. The Cycle Begins

 

* * *

“Just when you think that you're in control,  
just when you think that you've got a hold,  
just when you get on a roll,  
here it goes, here it goes, here it goes again,”

—OK Go, _Here It Goes Again_

* * *

Allison, Scott, Lydia and Stiles sat on the couches in Scott's basement, not saying or doing much. It had been half heartedly suggested that they watch a movie, but no one really felt like it.

“Guys, come on,” Stiles said. “We had to, alright? You know we did,”

Allison nodded. “Stiles is right, they... they were killing people. And they wouldn't have stopped,”

“They made it pretty clear they weren't willing to listen to reason,” Lydia said, pursing her lips.

Scott shook his head. “It wasn't right...” Out of all of them, he seemed the most upset by what had happened, even though Allison was almost sure he hadn't actually killed any of the Aluka himself.

Allison bit her lip, and put her hand on his shoulder. “The thing is... I think it was right,” She said quietly. He looked at with a strange mixture of emotion in his eyes: hurt and fear, but also a strange hopefulness as well, as if he what he really wanted was for her to reassure him that what they did was okay. “It wasn't a good thing... but I think it was the right thing,” She said.

Scott looked away again. “Maybe...” He said. “I just can't shake the feeling that there was something we could have done differently,”

“We didn't exactly have a lot of time to come up with a plan,” Lydia said, glancing sideways at Stiles. “Since  _you_ and your buddies Erica, Boyd and Jackson executed your  _own_ without  _telling_ _ us, _ ” 

“Aw, come on, we did what we had to do!” Stiles objected. “How long were we gonna sit around debating over how to solve the problem, while every day we waited more people died,” He shook his head. “I'm sorry we lied to you guys, but I'm not sorry about what we did. Allison's right, it was the right thing. The  _only_ thing,”

Scott furrowed his brow. “You don't know—”

“Scott shut up,” Lydia said, her eyes going wide. Scott frowned, looking at her. They all recognized that look on her face. No one said a word.

Over the last year, Lydia's banshee powers had grown. Everyone had helped her hunt down information on banshees, and they'd talked to everyone they knew who might have something to offer. Scott had talked to his boss, Jackson had talked to Derek, and after what seemed like a lot of begging on Jackson's part, Derek had even talked to his uncle, Peter. It had actually been Peter whom they'd received the most helpful information from, in the form of some very old scans of a book called “An Leabhar de Sídhe.” When she'd given the scans to her, Allison had been tempted to tell her it was from Derek... but she knew she'd done enough lying to “protect” Lydia for a lifetime. Even if it hurt her, Lydia deserved all the information.

Through the book, Lydia had learned all about the history of banshees, how their powers worked and how she could utilize hers to save lives. She had practiced and learned to hone and control her powers, instead of them controlling her. No longer did she find herself drawn to strange places to discover fresh corpses, now she had enough control of her abilities to sense a death before it happened, and get there in time to stop it.

Allison watched as a pained expression came over Lydia's face, as she concentrated on her vision. “She's all alone... she's afraid. There's two of them... two...”

“Two what?” Allison pressed.

Lydia shook her head. “I don't know, I can't see—her fear, it's too strong...” Lydia closed her eyes, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “It's gone,”

“Where is she?” Scott asked, already standing up. “Do you know?” Lydia's powers sometimes acted in cryptic ways, and she couldn't always decipher a location from her visions.

“I'm not sure, I saw a sign in the background—it was neon blue, and said _SUBJECT ZERO_ ,” Lydia shook her head again. “But I have no idea where that is,”

“We do,” Stiles said, grabbing his coat from the coach. “That's where Scott got his cool new ink,” He said. Stiles had made it clear on more than one occasion that he wasn't a fan of the tattoo Scott had gotten about a week before the Aluka attacks began.

“It's in the bad part of town,” Scott said, ignoring Stiles' jab.

Allison furrowed her brow. “And that's where exactly?”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, I mean I know where it is... but do we even have a good part of town?”

“Point taken,” Scott said. “Let's go,”

* * *

It was late into the night, or very early in the morning, depending on your perspective. Derek couldn't sleep. In the bed beside him, Jackson was having no such problem, and was asleep on his stomach with his arms splayed out across the bed, legs tangled in the sheets. Suddenly needing to touch him, Derek reached over and gently ran his hand over Jacksons back. Jackson stirred slightly in his sleep, but did not wake up. Derek was almost sorry that he didn't... He realized he wished Jackson was awake to tell him he was being an idiot, worrying about nothing... Tell him that everything would be fine, and that he needed to get some friggin' sleep.

If someone had asked Derek what he was worried about, he doubted he'd be able to tell them. The truth was, it was nothing... And everything. He'd been rattled by what happened with the Aluka... Jackson being captured, putting himself in so much danger. And Erica and Boyd along with him. They were idiots, all three of them... But he knew that as much as he was angry with them, he was also a little bit proud. They'd all come so far in such a short time, turning from scared kids with too much power to protectors, fighters. But just as the anger was mingled with pride, the pride was mixed with fear. Every time they went out to fight, Derek was afraid for them. And part of him wanted to stop them, stop them all and tell them it was enough. No more fighting, no more trying to save everyone. Just focus on saving themselves.

But he couldn't do that. He'd made the decision to turn them all, and now that they wanted to do some good with the power they'd been given, how could he stop them? How could he tell them just to be selfish, like he had been all those years? No, he couldn't.

He wished Laura was here. Wished he had someone to guide him, tell him if he was making the right decisions. He wished Peter wasn't insane, wished he was the way he used to be. Cocky and immature, sure... But good. Deep down, his uncle had known what was right. But the fire had burned all of that out of him, and the person that was left behind was not one Derek recognized.

Derek gritted his teeth. It always came back to the fire. The fire had ruined everything. Both his sisters were dead because of it, his uncle driven mad... His parents, gone. Every cousin burned up, a family destroyed.

Part of him knew it was true, that this was the reason he'd been so keen to build a new pack. It hadn't been a pack he'd wanted, it was a family.

Jackson stirred again, rolling onto his back and moving closer to Derek. Derek put his arms around him and pulled him close, feeling Jackson relax against him.

Derek held Jackson tightly, as much to comfort Jackson as it was to comfort himself. And he wondered if maybe it wasn't so impossible he had managed to build a new family. A family of broken and scared kids, just like him.

* * *

Lydia was screaming. They were almost at the tattoo parlour but every single one of them knew they were too late.

The scream ended abruptly as Lydia regained control of herself. In its place was a terrible silence.

"God damn it," Stiles said, banging his hand on the steering wheel. "Fuck,"

"Maybe whatever did it is still there," Allison said. "If we hurry we can still stop them, before they have a chance to kill anyone else,"

In the passenger seat, Scott nodded. "Yeah, that's a good idea," he said. He sounded sober, but sad.

"I... I'm sorry," Lydia said. Allison turned to her, almost frightened by the smallness of Lydia's voice. Lydia Martin was not supposed to sound small, not ever. "It's my fault... If I'd had the vision sooner then we—"

"Lydia, stop right there," Stiles said, glancing at her in the rear view mirror.

Scott turned around in his seat. "If it hadn't been for you, we wouldn't have even known anything happened until it was on the news."

"We weren't fast enough to save her, but if we catch whatever's responsible we can save a lot more lives," Allison added.

"You've got a crazy intense power Lydia, and the fact that you've learned control it as much as you have is nothing but amazing," Stiles said. "Don't think for a second that you did anything wrong,"

Lydia shook her head, obviously not convinced. "I need to try harder, need to learn more,"

Allison put her hand on Lydia's shoulder. "It's not a science, Lydia. You can't make these things work perfectly, you know that. You're doing your best,"

"Well it's not enough!"

"You—"

With a screech the car skidded to a halt, and they all lurched forward slightly. Allison was about to ask why they'd stopped, but then she caught sight of the neon blue sign that read _SUBJECT ZERO._ They'd arrived.

They exited the car without further discussion. Allison spotted the body laying on the curb, half hidden in the shadows. Two figures were hunched over her. Her killers.

Allison pulled her bow off her back and notched an arrow, sending it flying at one of the hunched figures. The figure moved fast, catching the arrow before it hit. Allison had anticipated this, and after after another second passed the arrow exploded in the figures face. They were knocked backwards, and their companion moved after them. A moment later they were on their feet again, and Allison saw a pair of blue glowing eyes staring back at her.

“She's like us,” Scott said, moving to Allison's side.

Both figures stepped into the light, and Allison was surprised to find they were young girls. They couldn't have been any older than she was. One was dark skinned and had long braided hair. She looked human, but Allison couldn't have been sure. The other was fully shifted, and had fair skin and the bright blue eyes that Allison knew marked a killer. She was hunched over slightly, claws out and clearly ready to attack.

Scott stepped forward. Before he had the chance to say or do anything, the eyes of the first girl turned blue. Not like a werewolf, where the iris changed colour. Instead the girls entire eye began to glow and pulse, the same bright neon blue as the sign of the tattoo parlour.

Slowly, the girl lifted a hand up and pointed to Allison. “She's one of them,” She said, her voice softer than Allison would have expected. Despite the softness, Allison could hear anger in her voice.

“Excuse me?” Allison said, surprised. “One of who?”

The werewolf growled, and barred her fangs. Then she lunged straight for Allison.

Before Allison had time to draw an arrow from her quiver, Scott intercepted the girl and threw her to the pavement.

The second girl charged forward, coming at Allison with a hunting dagger.

Allison blocked her attacked and shoved her off, giving her time to reach for the knife around her ankle—a  V-42 stiletto.

The girl came at her again, quickly and with brutal force. While she was clearly not a werewolf, it was apparent she'd been trained in fighting. Every move she made was deliberate, calculated and well placed. Allison was having a hard time keeping up with her, although so far she was holding her own. Neither of them had drawn blood yet, but Allison was sure her opponent would not waste an opportunity if she was given one. Allison intended to make sure she wasn't.

The fight went on, fast and merciless. In another circumstance, Allison would have admired the girl. She moved with a vicious grace, and fought with everything she had. Her skill was incredible, and her rage was evident.

As the girl blocked another of Allison's attacks, her eyes began to glow again. She put her leg out and rammed it into Allison's stomach, knocking her back. Allison managed to remain on her feet, but when she went to attack again she saw the girl retreating.

“Time to go,” Allison heard her say to her friend. The werewolf girl shoved Scott off of her and pushed Stiles, who had been standing there with his bat ready, to the ground. Then the pair ran off.

“That was weird,” Stiles, muttered, picking himself up. He reached out a hand to Scott and pulled him off the ground as well.

Scott nodded. “Why'd they run?”

“Maybe they sensed we were just about the kick their asses,” Stiles suggested.

Scott frowned. “I hear something...” He muttered. “Sirens,”

“We have to go,” Lydia said, stepping up beside them. She typically hung back in a fight, as her powers didn't give her any sort of physical advantage. She was training with Allison to learn basic fighting skills, but she was still a beginner. “Stiles, if you're father catches us hanging around another dead body, we're going to be in trouble,”

Allison agreed, Over the past year, they'd all been caught by the sheriff in various compromising places. None of them could afford another. “Let's go,”

Stiles nodded, and yet did not move towards the car. “Just a second,” He said, running over to the body. “We need to examine her, see how she died—” He stepped into the shadows and stopped. Then he turned around and walked back over to them, looking paler than usual.

Scott raised an eyebrow. “Done your examination already?” He asked. Stiles was usually pretty thorough about that sort of thing. “Remember, we can always get a second opinion from my Mom later,”

Stiles nodded slowly. “That's uh, a good idea,” He said hoarsely. “But I think I know the cause of death,” He swallowed. “She was kind of missing something I'm pretty sure you need for living,”

Lydia raised her eyebrows. “What?” She asked.

Stiles grimaced. “Her brain.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'll typically try and get a chapter posted every week, hopefully each Wednesday. 
> 
> Unlike TLC, which I described as being set in a world called "fuck you season 3," this fic will incorporate certain aspects that were introduced in the third season. For example, Scott's tattoo. However, don't hold your breath waiting for the Alpha Pack, the Darach or the Nemeton to show up because they will be decidedly absent. 
> 
> Also unlike TLC, which was comprised almost entirely of POVs from Jackson, Derek and Allison, this fic will have at least one POV for every central character.


	4. Beginning of the End

* * *

"So this is it," said Arthur, "We are going to die."  
"Yes," said Ford, "except... no! Wait a minute!" He suddenly lunged across the chamber at something behind Arthur's line of vision. "What's this switch?" he cried.  
"What? Where?" cried Arthur, twisting round.  
"No, I was only fooling," said Ford, "we are going to die after all."  
―Douglas Adams,  _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_

* * *

Jackson shook his head, and stood his ground. "Nope," He said. "I can't do it,"

Erica nodded. "I agree. It's impossible. Not happening, can't do it,"

Isaac folded his arms across his chest. "They might be right,"

Boyd rolled his eyes. "You're a bunch of babies. You can do it, you just don't want to,"

"Exactly," Jackson agreed. "We don't want to,"

"Really don't want to," Erica added.

"Well suck it up," Boyd said, putting his hands on Erica and Jackson's shoulders. "We're going in. Isaac, come on,"

"Yes sir, Boyd sir," Isaac said, saluting before following Boyd into the school.

Jackson groaned as Boyd led him into the building. Everything looked the same as it had when he had left it at the end of the previous school year. Except now he was a senior, in his final year. Assuming he didn't fail any classes again, something he had somehow managed to avoid in the previous year. Well, he supposed he had managed to avoid it with a lot of tutoring from Boyd and Lydia, and a lot of late night study sessions with Erica and Isaac.

"Come on guys, cheer up," Boyd said, sounding a hell of a lot more chipper than Jackson thought he had a right to. "It could be worse. It's our final year, and at least we all have home room together,"

"Yeah,  _final_ year," Jackson said. "Final year of safety and familiarity before we go out into the big wide unknown world,"

Erica snorted. "There's never been anything  _safe_ about this school for me," She said. "I just hate it here. Besides," She continued, glancing at Boyd. "Not all of us get to leave early every day,"

"If you guys wanted free periods you should have taken more summer school courses," Boyd said with a shrug.

"We did take summer school," Isaac protested.

"For failed courses," Boyd said.

"Your point being?" Erica asked.

Boyd shrugged again.

Jackson pinched the bridge of his nose. "I have a headache," He said. "Maybe I should go home..."

"No way Whittemore," Erica said, grabbing his arm. "If we go down, then we all go down together,"

Jackson made a whining noise.

"No one is going down anywhere," Boyd said. "We're going to be fine. Come on, we've faced way worse than this! We've spent the last year fighting literal monsters. This is just high school,"

Erica and Jackson stopped and turned to Boyd. "Just so you know," Erica said. "The words 'just' and 'highschool—'"

"They don't go together," Jackson finished.

Isaac shook his head, smiling slightly. "You guys are such losers," He mumbled. "Try not to talk to me too much in homeroom, okay? You'll ruin my reputation,"

Erica grinned. "Oh yeah?"

The smile slipped off of Isaac's face. "Erica..."

Erica put her hands around her mouth and shouted. "Isaac Lahey sleeps with a teddybear named Tickles, and cries during the end of  _The Wizard of Oz_ every time!"

Isaac grabbed her arm. "Shut up! You know only half those things are true!"

Erica did not look bothered.

Jackson and Boyd looked at each other and sighed. It was going to be a long year.

* * *

At lunch time they met up with Scott's group at the bleachers, and learned about the new threat that had come to town.

"I'm not saying it's zombies," Stiles said. "But it's zombies,"

Lydia shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense. Neither of those girls were zombies,"

"One is definitely a werewolf and the other is... something," Allison explained. "If she was a zombie, then she was surprisingly fit for a rotting corpse,"

Jackson groaned "Seriously though, didn't we just take care of the Aluka? Don't we deserve a friggin' break?"

"I know, murdering psychotic monsters are just so _inconsiderate,_ " Stiles replied.

"You're mocking me, but they seriously are," Jackson said.

"You said the other girl was 'something,'" Boyd interrupted, steering them back on track. "Any clue as to what that something is?" He glanced at Lydia. "Another banshee, maybe?"

"I don't think so," Lydia said. "My eyes have never done the freaky glowing thing hers did... and I'd actually prefer it to stay that way,"

"In traditional Haitian lore, zombies were always controlled by voodoo masters, and forced to do their bidding," Stiles said. "Those girls could be the zombie masters, and maybe the actual zombies just left before we got there!"

"We've been looking in the bestiary for clues," Allison said, ignoring Stiles. "But so far we haven't found anything,"

Erica nodded. "We'll look in Derek's, and ask him if he has any ideas. What exactly did her eyes do?"

Stiles groaned. "Fine, I give up. It's not zombies," He said. "However, if it does turn out to be zombies, I demand apologies from all of you,"

Scott nodded. "Noted," He said. He turned back to Erica. "They glowed. It was different from us... it was like her whole eye lit up," Scott explained.

Isaac frowned. "That... sounds familiar..." He pursed his lips. "I think I read about something like that. What colour did they glow?"

"Blue. Neon blue," Scott told him. "You think you know what she was?"

Isaac seemed to think for a moment, and then he nodded. "Yeah, I do. They're like psychics, kind of. I can't remember the name, though. I remember the book said it was really rare. They're born to human families, and the ability is dormant for a while but shows up when the kids are like, eight or nine,"

"What abilities?" Boyd asked.

"They can see things," Isaac said. "The future, mostly, but the book said really gifted ones can see things about the past, and like look into your soul and whatever,"

"Anything else?" Stiles pressed. "They don't also breathe fire or something, right?"

"Not that I remember," Isaac said.

"This is bad enough," Scott muttered. "How are we supposed to plan against someone who can predict what we're going to do?"

They all looked at each other. No one had an answer.

"We'll figure something out," Allison said. She was trying to sound confident, but Jackson could hear the doubt in her voice. "We always do,"

* * *

It was the final period of the day, and Boyd was waiting in the library, trying to get a jump on his homework. They had all agreed to go to back to Derek and Isaac's loft after school ended, and as Jackson was the only one with a car, it just made sense to wait.  
For some reason, he was having trouble concentrating on the history homework in front of him. It was easy stuff, just read a chapter of the textbook and then answer some corresponding essay questions... but he just couldn't focus on it. He wondered how the others were doing in their last classes of the day. He pictured them all staring at the clock on the wall, counting the seconds until the final bell. In his pocket he felt his phone buzz, and he pulled it out and saw he had a text from Erica.  
It said  _"41 minutes and 23 seconds left,"  
_  
Boyd shook his head, smiling slightly. So predictable. He sent a message back saying " _Stop texting! Do your work!_ "  
A second later the reply came through, and featured a emoticon that seemed about to barf. Boyd rolled his eyes, and put his phone away.

"My god, why does it seem like the amount of people at this school just  _triples_ every single year?" Lydia said, sliding into the seat across from Boyd."I mean seriously, shouldn't the numbers even out? A class graduates, a new class comes in... is there some friggin' conspiracy going on here?  _Why_ are there so many students?"

Boyd sat up stiffly. "Uh, hi Lydia," He said. Though their groups had been getting along well, fighting together and even hanging out on occasion, he had never actually spent any time alone with Lydia, and wasn't entirely sure how to act around her. A part of him still thought of her as the pretty popular girl who could crush him under her boot heel if she so chose. But that, Boyd knew, was ridiculous. Whatever their social statuses used to mean, Lydia was his friend now. And he knew she had gone through enough changes that crushing anyone under her boot heel was no longer on her agenda. At least, as long as they didn't get in her way. "What's wrong?"

Lydia sighed. "There are no free tables. Do you mind if I join you?"

Boyd shook his head. "No, of course not. Although you are interrupting my rigorous studying," He said, gesturing to his notebook, which was absolutely blank.

Lydia smirked. "My apologies," She said.

Unable to think of anything else witty to add, Boyd just flashed a small smile, and went back to his textbook.

Lydia took out some books of her own and began to leaf through them, jotting down notes every now and then.

They worked in silence for a little while. Boyd tried to read the chapter of his textbook, but every time he finished a paragraph he realized he hadn't taken in a single word, and was forced to go back and read it again.

"Hmm," Lydia said, frowning at her notebook. "Boyd, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot," Boyd said, grateful to be distracted from how distracted he was.

"Is there any significance to the crescent moon?"

Boyd frowned. "How do you mean?"

"I mean in paranormal terms. Obviously the full moon has it effects on your kind, and I know certain other variations, such as a lunar eclipse, can have different effects... but what about a crescent moon?"

Boyd thought for a moment. "No, not that I know of..."

Lydia nodded. "Neither am I," She said.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I keep drawing it," Lydia said, tilting her note book towards him. Aside from the notes she'd written, the margins of the page were filled with small crescent moons. "And usually that means something,"

"Well, I can check with Derek if you want," Boyd offered. "We're going over that after school. Maybe he knows something we don't,"

"Thanks," Lydia said. She smiled at him, but Boyd could tell she was worried.

"Is everything alright?" Boyd asked gently.

Lydia shook her head. "No, not really," She said, pursing her lips. "But when is it ever?"

* * *

Boyd waited at Jackson's car in the parking lot as the school let out, leaning against the car and looking around the throngs of students for his friends. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and Boyd frowned as a strange sensation came over him. Suddenly he had the sense that he was being watched.

He looked around again, and squinted at a pair of girls standing across the street from the school. They were far away and he couldn't make out their features, but he knew if he concentrated he would be able to see more sharply. Before he had a chance, the girls met up with a group of students and walked off the down the street. Whatever sensation had come over went away, and Boyd decided he'd imagined it.

"Dude, what the hell?"

Boyd looked up sharply as Jackson approached, with Erica and Isaac following close behind. "Huh?"

"You're going to scratch the paint!" Jackson said, smacking him lightly on the arm.

"Oh," Boyd said, straightening up. "Sorry,"

Jackson shook his head. "Seriously man, not cool," He said, pulling out his keys. "I mean, I ask for so little,"

Erica snorted, coming up behind him. "Please, you're like the neediest person I know," She said.

Jackson opened his mouth, but floundered for a moment. "That..." He said. "Is offensive. Although not exactly untrue,"

Boyd laughed and got into the car. He sat in the passengers seat, and Erica and Isaac got into the back.

As Jackson pulled out of the schools parking lot, Isaac leaned forward from the back and began fiddling with the radio. Jackson groaned. "Isaac, you know I make you sit in the back literally to avoid exactly what you're doing right now, right?"

Isaac nodded. "Yeah, I know that,"

Jackson sighed. "Well if you know that, then maybe you can cut it the fuck out?"

"I could," He said, continuing to switch around to different channels.

Jackson took a deep breath, but before he could unleash hell on Isaac, Erica yanked him back. "Sit down, Lahey," She said. "It's not worth starting the next world war over,"

Isaac crossed his arms over his seat, and spent the rest of the ride staring grumpily out the window.

They got to Derek's quickly (Jackson knew all the good shortcuts) and made their way up to the apartment.

"Well, what's going on?" Derek asked, the very second he'd pulled open the door.

Boyd saw Jackson and Erica roll their eyes at each other as they brushed past him, not bothering to answer his question. "Hi, Derek, it's nice to see you too," Jackson said, plunking his book bag down on the table. "My day was crap, thanks for asking," Jackson put his hand on Derek's chest and gave him a quick kiss. "You're so considerate sometimes, honestly,"

"What's going on?" Derek repeated. Though he paid no attention to Jackson's jabs, he did wrap his arms around him as Jackson pressed his face against his shoulder. Still comforting Jackson, Derek turned to Boyd and raised his eyebrows.

"A woman was murdered a few nights ago, by two girls," Boyd explained. "Lydia had one of her visions about it, but they didn't get their in time to save her."

"How'd she die?" Derek asked.

"Well, since Stiles found her with her brain missing, our working theory is that's what killed her," Jackson mumbled, faces still pressed into Derek's shoulder.

A look of disturbance came over Derek's face. "Her  _brain_ was missing?" He repeated.

Boyd nodded. "Stiles thinks its zombie related, but I don't think that makes sense. We know she was killed by those two girls, and they weren't zombies,"

"Do we know what they were?"

"They know one of the girls was a werewolf, but we're not a hundred percent on the other. Isaac thinks he has an idea of what she is though," Boyd turned to Isaac, who was busy raiding the fridge.

Derek also looked expectantly to Isaac, and waited for him to continue.

Isaac frowned, and turned to Derek. "Are we out of snack packs?" He asked.

Boyd sighed. "Isaac, some concentration would be cool right now,"

"But I put it on the shopping list," Isaac said.

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. "They're in the cupboard, Isaac. Now if you could please just tell me about the murder before I commit another right now—"

"You know I like my pudding cold, Derek," Isaac said. Derek began to seethe slightly, and Boyd saw a small smirk appear on Isaac's face.

Derek's jaw was tight. "Isaac—"

"I can't remember the name," Isaac said, grabbing some snack packs from the cupboard. "But it's something like a psychic, someone that can see things others can't, like the future," He tossed a chocolate pudding to Erica, and a vanilla one to Boyd. Jackson wasn't given one simply because they'd established that he was not a pudding fan, which Boyd personally found hard to believe. "The book said their whole eye glows bright blue,"

Derek nodded. "I know what you're talking about," He said. "She's an oculus,"

Boyd raised an eyebrow. "An oculus?" He asked.

"They're exactly what Isaac said," Derek said. He and Jackson pulled apart, and Derek grabbed a book from one of his shelves. "They can see things other can't. But that doesn't just mean they can see the future. They can see things about people, about their pasts and the people they are. They can see the secrets you're are trying to hide, and the lies you tell them," He flipped through the book, then put it down on the counter, open to a page which showed a young girl with bright white glowing eyes. "Depending on their age and how skilled they are, their eyes either glow blue or white,"

Boyd heard a buzzing noise, and Jackson reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. "It's Allison," He said, swiping to answer the call. "Hey, any news?"

Everyone gathered around Jackson who held out the phone, with Allison on speaker.

"We just spoke to Scott's Mom about the girl." She said. "Her was name Ilse Einarrson, she was 27 and she died of massive head trauma,"

Isaac snorted. "'Massive head trauma,'" He repeated. "I'm pretty sure we could have guessed that ourselves,"

"But we didn't know for sure if the whole head-cracked-open no-brain thing was the cause of death, or something done to the body," Allison pointed out. "Anyways, according to Scott's mom, the weird thing about the body is—"

"Right, because the whole missing brain thing isn't weird enough—" Isaac interrupted.

"The weird thing is that they found traces of an alpha-neurotoxin in her system,"

"That's not that weird," Derek said. "Not in comparison to everything else,"

Lydia's voice came over the phone. Allison must have had them on speaker as well. "What's  _weird,_ " She said. "Is that the toxin they found is venom from the Japanese Nise Snake."

"And let me guess, that snake is only found in Japan?" Derek said, rubbing his eyes.

"Exactly," Lydia replied.

Boyd shook his head. "None of this makes sense," He said.

Isaac shrugged. "Does it ever?"

"More sense than this," He said. "I mean, first of all why would a werewolf and an oculus need someone's brain? What was the point in injecting her with venom from a Japanese snake?"

"Well, the venom from the Japanese Nise snake is a known paralytic," Lydia answered. "They probably used it to keep her down while they performed their forced hemispherectomy,"

"As for what they could use a brain for—if we've ruled out zombies completely—" Stiles began.

"—We have—" Erica and Jackson said in unison.

"—Then I've been doing some digging, and there's actually a lot of weird rituals and crap that need a human brain. I'll keep looking, see if there's anything that mentions werewolves or... oculuses? Oculi?"

Derek nodded. "We'll look too," He said.

They hung up the phone, and shortly after Boyd and Erica gathered up their things, as they would soon be expected at home for dinner.

"Hey, Derek," Boyd said, as he waited for Erica to get get jacket on. "Can I ask you something?"

Derek nodded. "Sure,"

"Do you know anything about the crescent moon?" Boyd asked. Derek raised his eyebrows. "I mean, the full moon has its obvious meanings to us, but what about the crescent moon?"

Derek furrowed his brow. "Why?"

"Lydia's been drawing crescent moons a lot," Boyd explained. It may have been his imagination, but he thought he saw Derek's eyes darken. "She asked me if I knew what it could mean. I didn't, so I said I'd run it by you."

"It doesn't mean anything," Derek said, turning away. Boyd was surprised by the sharpness in his voice. "You should probably get home,"

Boyd opened his mouth to argue, but Erica put a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, you know you're not going to get anything else out of him," She said.

He sighed, knowing that she was right. Derek was an uncrackable vault, one that it seemed only Jackson had been given the code to. Maybe he would ask Jackson to pry into it for him.

"Well, see you guys," Boyd said, nodding to Isaac and Jackson, who were watching television on the couch. They nodded absently back at him, obviously absorbed in whatever they were watching. Boyd exchanged a look with Erica, and she rolled her eyes.

They walked out of the loft, and Boyd waited until he was out of earshot to talk. "That was odd, right?" He asked.

"What, with Derek?" Erica asked. "Sure, but I mean,  _odd_ is kind of Derek's M.O. isn't it?"

"I guess..." Boyd mumbled. Still, it troubled him. Derek was clearly keeping something from him, about the crescent and moon and what it meant.

"So," Boyd began as they walked to the bus stop. "When does your 'study group' start back up?" He asked. "And, if you don't mind me asking, how much longer do you plan on keeping that up for?"

Since her transformation, Erica had developed a strained relationship with her parents. While they had a tendency to be less than involved in what was going on in Erica's life, it didn't take a detective to realize Erica had changed. The doctors couldn't explain her epilepsy just vanishing, and her parents didn't understand her shift in attitude or appearance. Something, it was clear to them, was going on.

Erica did not seem to feel the need to tell them what that was. Instead of telling them she was a werewolf, in a pack with Boyd, Isaac, Jackson and Derek, she told them she'd joined a study group. She left that to explain where she was every day. So far the only true thing they knew about her life was that she was dating Boyd, and even that had taken a while to come out. They knew that Jackson was gay, and dating someone named Derek, but they thought that Derek was another student at the school. She'd told them Isaac was gay as well, so they would keep letting him sleepover.

Erica grinned. "That  _was_ study group, remember," She said, nudging him slightly with her elbow. He gave her a look, and she pouted. "Come on, Vernie, I need you in my corner,"

Boyd groaned. He hated it when she called him  _Vernie._ "You shouldn't keep lying to your parents," He said. "It's not right,"

Erica rolled her eyes. They reached the bus stop, and she set her bag down by her feet and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket. "I'm a teenager, Boyd. It's normal for teenagers to lie to their parents,"

"Not about their species," Boyd countered.

"And how did being honest with your parents work out for you, hmm?" Erica replied.

Boyd hesitated. "It... it worked out alright," He said. "They're accepting, you know that,"

"But they don't like it, do they?" She asked.

"Of course they don't, they want me to be normal," Boyd said. "They want me to be safe. I mean... I'm all they have left,"

Erica took his hand, her eyes softening. "Maybe I'm trying to keep my parents from worrying about me the way yours worry about you," She said.

"If I thought that was it, I'd let it go," He replied. "But we both know it's not,"

Erica raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah, smart guy, what is it then?"

"I'm not sure, exactly," Boyd said. "Revenge, maybe,"

Erica didn't say anything as the bus pulled up, and they both got on it. They took a seat near the back.

As the bus pulled away from Derek's building, Boyd brushed his fingers through Erica's soft blond hair. "You know I'm always in your corner, right?" He asked.

Erica nodded, and gave him a small smile. "I know. And you're right, it is revenge. They never paid enough attention to me, and now I'm shutting them out. It's stupid and petty, and I should stop,"

"But you won't, will you?"

She smirked. "You know me so well," She said.

Boyd rolled his eyes, and put her arm over her shoulder. He decided to drop this for now, but he wouldn't forget it. As much as she tried to pretend that what they thought didn't matter to her, Boyd knew that if she ruined her relationship with her parents, she'd regret it. Once a family was broken, it couldn't ever be put back together. You could try, and you could get it almost right... but the pieces would never fit together the way they used to.  
Boyd knew that better than anyone.


	5. College Fair

* * *

"What happens to us in the future?  
...Do we become assholes or something?"  
—Marty McFly, Back to the Future II

* * *

Derek had become lost. No, he hadn't gotten lost. He'd been abandoned. His pack had left him, and likely forgotten about him and now he was going to be alone forever. Why did everyone he loved leave him?

Scanning the crowd again, Derek finally spotted a familiar face. Scott was standing a few feet away, talking to the woman in one of the booths. As Derek moved towards him, he saw the booth sported a sign reading "UC Davis - College of Veterinary Medicine." He stood off to the side for a moment, waiting for them to be finished. Eventually Scott thanked the woman with a sincere smile, and took a pamphlet from her, which he tucked into his backpack.

"So where's your partner in crime?" Derek asked, walking up to Scott. "Checking out the police academy booth?"

Scott looked taken aback. "Stiles? In  _law enforcement?_ " He asked, his tone of voice making it clear that was the most ridiculous idea possible.

Derek shrugged. "I just figured he might be interested in following in the footsteps of his Dad,"

"You know, a big part of being in law enforcement is  _enforcing the law,_ " Scott said. "Stiles has a tendency for the opposite,"

"We all have to grow up some day,"

The smile slipped off Scott's face, and he glanced away. "I guess," He muttered.

Derek furrowed his brow. "Everything alright?" He asked.

Scott nodded. "Yeah, no, it's nothing. I'm just—" He shrugged. "It's nothing," He repeated. Before Derek could press the matter, Scott changed the subject. "So what about you, where's Jackson and the others?" He asked. "I'm guessing you didn't come to this college fair alone,"

"They're around here somewhere," Derek said, looking around again. "We got separated in the crowd..."

"Well, Allison and Lydia are walking around here too, so we should all try and meet up and grab some lunch," Scott said.

Derek nodded. "Alright," he said.

"Did you try texting them already, or did you just assume they were gone forever once you lost their scent?" Scott asked, pulling out his phone.

Derek opened his mouth. "Well..."

Scott smiled, shaking his head. "I'll text the group, tell them to meet us at the food court,"

"What group?"

"The whatsapp group," Scott said, typing away on his phone.

"What's a whatsapp group?"

"Whatsapp is an app, for messaging," Scott looked up. "You know what an app is, right?" He asked.

Derek sighed. "Yes, Scott, I know what an app is," He mumbled.

"Just checking," Scott said, going back to his texting. "Anyways me, Stiles, Lydia, Allison, Jackson, Isaac, Erica and Boyd are all part of a group chat on there, so we can all be easily reached at once,"

"How come I'm not a part of this group chat?" Derek asked

"Because no one can ever get you by text message," Scott explained. "We just figured that Jackson would fill you in on whatever we talked about,"

"Fair enough..."

"Alright, they're all responding. They'll meet us there," Scott said, putting his phone away.

Derek and Scott headed into the building that the college fair was taking place inside of in and around, and made their way to the food court.

"There you are!" Derek turned as Jackson came over to him, looking exasperated. As if  _he'd_ been the one who'd been abandoned, and not the other way around. "What the hell happened to you?"

"I was left behind by the people who claim to care about me," Derek said cooly. He was joking, of course. Or half of him was, at least. Maybe a quarter.

"Aw, Derek missed us," Isaac said, grinning at Erica and Boyd. He looked at Derek. "He really does love us,"

Derek glared at him. "Let's not go that far," He said. Isaac continued to smile.

They all got their food, and upon realizing that there were absolutely no free tables, decided to sit outside, in the park across the street. They pushed two picnic tables together and sat down.

"You know, this is nice," Scott said.

"I don't know, I always think eating outside feels unnatural," Isaac replied, squinting at the nature around him. "The fresh air gives it a weird taste,"

"I meant us all hanging out like this, doing something normal for a change,"

"We've hung out before," Allison pointed out. "Remember, we saw that movie a few months back,"

"Exactly, and then we all bonded over how much we hated it," Lydia added. "That was fun,"

"I'm not saying we never do it," Scott said. "All I'm saying is that when we do... It's nice,"

To Derek's surprise, Jackson nodded. "Scott's right," he said. "We should do it more often,"

Everyone turned to Jackson, looking slightly shocked. "What?"

Scott raised his eyebrows. "You said I was right,"

"Those words actually left your mouth," Stiles said.

Erica put her hand against Jacksons forehead. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"Maybe he's suffering from an acute confusional state," Lydia suggested.

Jackson shoved Erica off and glared at them all. "Jeez, my mistake. I promise to never agree with McCall again, clam down,"

"That's not what we're saying, Jackson," Allison amended. "You can agree with whoever you want to, we were just surprised,"

"No, I think that is what we're saying," Derek added. "You and Scott agreeing... That's unnatural,"

Jackson began to glower at his food, and Derek put his arm over his shoulder. Truthfully, he was proud of Jackson. He'd come so far from the scared, hateful person he'd once been. Sure, he could still be immature at times, but at the oddest moments Derek would be reminded of how much he had grown and changed.

"Hey, do you guys..." Boyd trailed off. He was looking across the street, at the crowded fair. He sighed. "Never mind, it's nothing,"

Erica nudged him slightly. "What? What's wrong?"

Boyd frowned. "It's really nothing I just... I can't shake this weird feeling. I got it at first a few days ago, and I don't know..."

"If you have a gut feeling about something, you should go with it," Scott advised.

Derek nodded. "Scott's right," he said. "Trust your instincts,"

Scott grinned. "Second time today," he said.

Derek rolled his eyes, suppressing a smile. "So come on, what's the feeling you can't shake,"

Boyd was clearly hesitant. "I guess I feel... Like I'm being watched, or followed or something."

"Any idea by who?" Stiles asked.

Boyd shrugged. "Not really," he said.

"Next time you get that feeling, try to hone in on it, see where it leads you," Derek said.

"Alright," Boyd nodded. "I'll try that,"

"Do you think it could be the killers?" Allison asked. "Those two girls...?"

Boyd's eyes went wide. "Actually I think I did see two girls at the school the other day. I thought they were looking at me, but then they blended in with the crowd and I just assumed they were students." He looked at Erica. "But what would two killers want with me?"

"I don't know," Erica said, a fiery look in her eyes. "But whatever it is, they're  _not_ going to get it,"

* * *

Jackson crashed down on their bed (which was technically Derek's bed, but Jackson had spent enough time in it to consider it partially his) and sighed. "Ugh, what a stupid waste of time," He moaned. "I hate college fairs,"

He opened his eyes and found Derek frowning down at him. "It wasn't a waste of time," He protested.

"Yeah, it was," Jackson said, propping himself up on his elbows. "I already know I want to go UCBC, so what's the point in going to a fair?"

The expression on Derek's face grew even more pained. "Why are you so set on going to the University of California Beacon County? I walked by their booth, the person manning it was asleep,"

Jackson rolled his eyes. "So? Just because their booth was lame doesn't mean the university will be bad," He paused and then added. "My cousin Charlie went there, and he's doing fine,"

Derek shook his head, and turned away. Jackson was relieved that he hadn't pressed him for details on how  _fine_ Charlie was doing, because Jackson actually had no clue. He hadn't seen or heard from his cousin since freshman year of high school.

But Derek didn't need to know that.

"Look, why don't we just go through these pamphlets, and take a look at some of the other schools," Derek said, grabbing a tote bag that he'd gotten from the UC Berkeley booth and turning over on the bed. A million different pamphlets fell out, and Jackson groaned.

"I'll look at them later, alright?" Jackson said, shoving them away. He sat up and grabbed Derek by the front of his shirt. "Come on, we just got home, let's relax," He pulled Derek down towards him and kissed him gently.

"I know what you're doing," Derek mumbled, as Jackson continued to pull him back on the bed.

Jackson kissed Derek's ear, and then bit gently on the lobe. "Mmm, and what am I doing?" He asked as he let he hand roam between Derek's legs.

"Distracting me," Derek answered, putting his hands up to hold Jackson's face as he kissed him.

Jackson grinned and moved back from Derek, pulling off his own shirt before tugging down Derek's pants. "Oh, but that wouldn't work," Jackson said softly, kneeling beside the bed and pressing kisses against the insides of Derek's thighs. "You're way too strong for that,"

Derek's only response was a light moan as Jackson placed his lips against him, taking him slowly into his mouth.

* * *

Jackson lay asleep in Derek's arms, and Derek brushed his fingers through Jackson's sweat tangled hair. He kicked himself for being so easily put off the subject by Jackson, distracted by the workings of his mouth and the caresses of his hands. Part of him felt it wasn't his fault; Jackson was just too tempting to resist. He always had been, ever since the first time they'd been together. Derek liked to think he'd gained some control since then, built up some tolerance to Jackson's charms and the sound of his voice, a resistance to the way his body felt... but the truth was he was just as weak as he'd always been.

They played a game, he and Jackson. It was Jackson's game, but Derek had come to love to play as well. The game was that Derek was the one in control of Jackson. When they were together he would tell him what to do, boss him around and treat him with cruelty. He would control Jackson's body, take him the way he wanted and force Jackson to beg and plead for anything in return. Jackson would submit himself to him and his dominance, tell Derek that he belonged to him and no one else, and promise he would obey Derek's every whim and command.

But it was just a game. The truth of their relationship was that it was Jackson who was in control. It always had been. From the moment Jackson had decided he wanted him, Derek had been his. Sometimes he was sure that not even Jackson realized how much control he held over Derek, didn't even realize the extent to which Derek would go to please him, to ensure he was safe and happy and had everything he wanted. He would do anything for Jackson, anything at all.

Even if that meant letting him go.

He had thought, once, that that was the right thing to do. He had it in his mind that he was no good for Jackson, that what they had together was hurting him, making things worse.

He had been wrong, he'd realized that a long time ago.

They had needed to change, of course, but he knew now that that change would not have been something they could have accomplished alone. They needed each other for support and comfort and so much more. When Jackson was down, hating himself and wondering if the world would not be better off without him, Derek was there to pick him up and remind him that he was good, and strong and loved. And when Derek was full of anger and hate, furious at what had been done to him and aching for those he had lost, Jackson was there to remind him that he was not alone. He had a family once again, and no one would ever take that from him.

It had been a long time since Derek had thought about the choice he'd made a year ago, the thoughtless decision to break Jackson's heart and turn him away. He had spent so long reprimanding himself, telling himself how stupid he'd been and what an idiot he was to think he could have ever gotten by without Jackson.

And now here he was, considering it again.

He knew why Jackson wanted to go to UCBC, knew why he wouldn't even consider any other colleges. It was so he could stay close to home. So he could stay with Derek.

Derek knew it was not up to him to make Jackson's decisions for him. It was Jackson's life, and he was free to do with it what he wanted. But he also knew he wouldn't be able to sit by and allow Jackson to hold himself back for Derek's sake. There was a whole world out there for Jackson to see, a world of infinite possibilities... and Jackson was going to stay in Beacon Hills, and never see any of it.

Derek was tied to Beacon Hills. It was where his family had always lived, and the place where almost all of them had died. He couldn't leave, especially now when there were so many threats. Derek would have to stay, he knew that.

But Jackson had no such obligations. He was young, he had money and Derek knew his grades the following year had not been terrible. If he kept that up for this year, and did well on his SATs then he would be able to go anywhere he wanted.

And Derek would do anything to make that happen.


	6. Clueless

* * *

"Sometimes it's our secrets that define us."  
—Britney Spears

* * *

Allison rushed around her room getting ready, pulling on clothing and brushing her hair and teeth. When she'd finished she was halfway out of he front door before she realized she didn't have her bag with her.

"Dad," she called, rushing back into the kitchen. Chris Argent was sitting at the kitchen table, eating cereal and reading the newspaper. He looked up when she entered, and put the paper down. "Have you seen my purse?" She asked.

He raised his eyebrows. "Good morning, Allison," he said pleasantly.

Allison sighed. "Morning dad," she said.

He smiled. "Now which purse would this be?" He asked. "The red one or the black one?"

"I don't have a red one," she said. "I'm looking for the burgundy one,"

Her father furrowed his brow. "And that's different from the red one?"

Allison gave him a look, unable to tell if he was joking or not. "Dad, burgundy is not red. It's darker and kind of purple... It's a whole different colour," Allison bit her lip, thinking over what she'd just said. Once she wouldn't have cared if her Dad has mistaken the colour of her bag. Clearly, this was Lydia's influence.

Chris nodded, and seemed to consider this. "Your dark red purse is in the closet," he said.

Allison sighed again, went to the closet and grabbed her purse. "Thank you," she said. "I'll be home for dinner, alright?"

"Wait, wait," Chris called. "Where are you going?"

Allison stopped, and turned back. A year ago, she would have been forced to lie to him. It was part of their agreement; no more hunting if they stayed in Beacon Hills. Allison broke their agreement almost immediately... And since found out that her father had as well. All the time she and her friends had been investigating the Hastings sisters, her father was conducting his own investigation, examining the crime scenes and interviewing witnesses. He hadn't gotten very far, but that wasn't difficult to understand. Chris was a talented hunter, but he hadn't had one of the sisters passing him info like Allison.

In the end they'd had a long talk, about their relationship as father and daughter. With so many members of their family dead or gone, it was more important than ever that they stick together. But, they'd agreed, this town needed them to be more than just father and daughter. It needed them to be hunters.

 _"Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger leurs-même."_ That was the new code Allison had thought of, and her father agreed to abide by it. They would be hunters again, but more than that, they would be protectors.

"We're examining Ilse Einarrson's house, trying to find some clues as to why those girls might want her dead," Allison explained.

Chris nodded. "Good plan. If you need any help—"

"I'll call you," Allison finished.

"Good, and promise me you'll—" Chris began, but this time was interrupted by his cellphone ringing in his pocket. He pulled it out and answered it. "Chris Argent. Yes..."

Allison waved goodbye to her Dad, who nodded back. She slipped quietly out of the apartment, and headed to her car. She would be picking Scott up along the way, as Ilse Einarrson lived far away and he didn't want to put so much mileage on his bike if he could avoid it.

As she pulled up to Scott's house, her stomach did small flips. She told it to stop, that it and she were being silly, but it did no good. She was nervous. She would be spending almost a half an hour alone with Scott, with nothing to do but talk. When was the last time they'd spent so much time alone, with nothing to focus on but each other?

She knew the answer immediately. Three months ago, right at the start of their end of year exams, they were studying with Stiles when he'd mysteriously come over ill and gone home, leaving them alone together. They'd tried to continue to focus on their studying, but it hadn't worked.

Alone at Scott's house, with his mother working late... something strange came over Allison. She realized, quite painfully, how much she missed Scott. Missed being more than his friend, more than his ally... she missed being his girlfriend.

She kissed him. Embarrassed, she'd left right away and avoided talking to him about it since. But she couldn't get it out of her head, the way it had felt and all the feelings it brought back up to the surface... feelings that she'd never quite been able to get rid off.

After the death of her mother, after being manipulated by Gerard and assisting him in brutalizing Derek's pack and Scott, Allison had been a wreck. She'd needed time away from Scott to figure out who she was on her own, and what it meant to her to be a hunter. She couldn't do that while dating someone, especially not a werewolf.

But she'd had time now, hadn't she? It had been over a year since their break-up, over a year since the death of her mother and her grandfathers betrayal. She knew who she was now, and what she stood for. She had grown, and changed, become stronger, as both a person and a hunter. Werewolves, the supernatural, they were not the enemy, she knew. It was people, individuals who made a choice to do harm to others, people who preyed on those they saw as weaker than themselves. Those who harmed the innocent, and chose to use their power to commit monstrous acts... they were the enemy.

Yes, she'd had time to grow and change... and so had Scott. He had become a real leader, not fearless but strong, a fighter for what was right and a defender of the weak. They worked together to protect Beacon Hills as allies, and Allison knew she was not wrong to call him a friend... but did they still have a chance to be more than that? Allison wasn't sure... perhaps too much time had passed, perhaps too much had changed. While Allison had taken her time to grow and sort herself out, had Scott moved on? She couldn't say, though if he had she knew she wouldn't blame him.

"Hey, what's up?" Scott asked, startling Allison as he got into the passenger seat. "You okay?"

Allison nodded. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine," She said. "Just thinking about things," She laughed nervously.

Scott nodded as well. "Yeah, things have been pretty crazy lately, even by our standards," He agreed. "First the aluka, now brain eating girls..." He shook his head. "It's a lot," He peered at her, and Allison shivered slightly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Allison said, swallowing. "What?" Her stomach flipped nervously again as her mind ran through all the things he could possibly ask her.

"The aluka, they were completely vampires, right?"

Allison blinked. "What? Oh..." She tried not to be disappointed. "Oh, yeah they were. Absolutely,"

"Right, see I don't know why Stiles just refuses to admit that," Scott said, leaning back in his seat. "I mean, they drank blood, they couldn't go in the sunlight—clearly vampires!"

Allison shrugged. "It's Stiles, who ever knows what's going through his mind..." She said, backing out of the driveway.

* * *

Jackson walked down the street next to Derek, wondering what he would have to do to get Derek to put his arm around him. If he asked, Derek would probably agree, but he didn't want to be so obvious about it. He wanted it to occur naturally... but it wasn't, so clearly he was going to have to manipulate things.

A year ago, Jackson had come out to his parents, and informed them of his relationship with Derek. Jackson marked that as his official coming out, as he couldn't think of anyone else who had any right to know. His pack knew, his friends knew, and his parents knew. Who else had to?

Despite being out, Jackson had kept his relationship with Derek more or less a general secret. They didn't act like a couple in public, and they didn't go on dates out in the open. This was due to his legally being a minor, and Derek legally being old.

But two months ago, Jackson turned 18, and for him that changed everything. Now, who cared if someone saw them together? Jackson was an adult, and legally entitled to screw the brains out of anyone he so chose to. Unsurprisingly, he chose Derek.

Derek, however, was yet to adjust to the change.

Trying to appear casual, Jackson took a step closer to Derek, so they were walking with their arms pressed against one another. Derek looked over his shoulder, and not at Jackson. He frowned. Jackson frowned too. "So, where are we headed again?" He asked, trying to grab Derek's attention.

"Hmm? Oh, Landis didn't have the book I was looking for, so we're checking another place I know has a lot supernatural literature," Derek explained, glancing briefly at Jackson before returning his attention across the street.

Jackson nodded. "Right... good thing it's a nice day, right?" He said. Derek didn't reply. "And it's nice to be able to walk like this... together, I mean. As a couple... letting people know we're a couple,"

Derek turned back to him, frowning deeply. "A couple of what?" He asked. Jackson stared at him, unsure of how to answer that. What the hell was going on with him?

Realization appeared on Derek's face, and he rubbed his eyes. "Right, a couple..." He mumbled. "Sorry, I'm distracted,"

"Clearly," Jackson said. "What's going on?"

Derek frowned. "I think I'm being followed," He said.

"What?" Jackson looked around, as if expecting to see an immediately suspicious figure trailing them. "By who?"

"I don't know, I just... I keep catching this scent..." Derek shook his head. "It's been going on for a few days now. They're keeping their distance whoever they are, and I can't get anything strong, it's just the slightest trace..." He gritted his teeth. "It's driving me nuts,"

"Do you think it's those girls?" Jackson asked. "The ones who killed that woman and ate her brain?" A knot began to tie itself in his stomach. First they were following Boyd, and now Derek? It was bad enough that there was someone new committing murders in town, but to think they had some kind of personal interest in them...

"I don't know," Derek said. "And we're just assuming it was them following Boyd, so don't start worrying yet," He paused, and then added. "It's probably nothing,"

Jackson gave him a look. "Derek, this is Beacon Hills," He said. "How often is it ever  _nothing?_ "

Derek sighed. "You're right," He said. "It's always something,"

"And never something good,"

Derek nodded. After a moment, his put arm over Jackson's shoulder, pulling him in close.

They said nothing more.

* * *

Ilse Einarrson lived in a small, neat townhouse in downtown Beacon Hills. Allison picked the lock to her front door, and they entered quietly. "So what are we looking for exactly?" Scott asked, picking up a book on Ilse's coffee table. Allison saw the cover read " _Eat, Pray, Love."_ There was a bookmark in the middle, and Allison felt a small pang as she realized that Ilse would never finish it.

"Anything that tells us why she might have been the target for murder," Stiles said, pulling on a pair of leather gloves. "Or what someone might've wanted with her brain, outside of the obvious—"

"Stiles, we ruled out zombies," Allison said, exasperated. "Move on,"

Stiles scrunched his face up, but said nothing. He turned to Scott. "Dude, gloves!" He said. "You're getting your prints everywhere!"

"So?" Scott asked, putting the book down. "Your Dad said the police were already here. They're not going to come back, right?"

"They might, you don't know," Stiles said, picking the book back up and cleaning off Scott's prints with his hoodie. "Just put your gloves on, okay?"

"I didn't bring gloves," Scott said.

Stiles looked horrified. "You didn't bring gloves," He looked around at Allison and Lydia. "He didn't bring gloves,"

Scott rolled his eyes. "It's not a big deal,"

"We're breaking into the home of a victim at the center of an on-going homicide investigation!" Stiles cried. "Of course it's a big deal!"

Scott looked at Allison. "Did you bring gloves?" He asked.

Allison nodded, raising her gloved hands sheepishly.

"So did I," Lydia added. "I want to help solve this, but I'm not going to go to  _jail_ because of it, thank you very much,"

Scott sighed, and pulled the sleeves of his hoodie down over his hands. "There, happy?" He asked.

"Elated," Stiles replied. "Alright, let's get started," He said.

Scott and Stiles stayed in the living room to search for clues, while Lydia and Allison took the bedroom. Allison had to admit, she felt extremely creepy going through the belongings of a dead woman. It wasn't the first time they'd done something like this, but she hoped it was never something she became used to.

"I found something," Lydia said. She was standing by the bedside table, looking behind it. "There's some kind of panel hidden here," She said. Allison came over, and Lydia gently pressed the panel. It came out of the wall, reveal a small hiding place. Inside was what looked like a jewelry box, a diary and a vibrator. Allison picked up the diary, careful to avoid the vibrator. She opened the book, and frowned. "It's not in english," She said, flipping through it. She handed the book to Lydia.

"It's written in icelandic," Lydia said.

"Can you translate it?" Allison asked.

"Eventually, yes, but it might take a little while," Lydia said. "Icelandic isn't actually one of the languages I can read,"

They called Scott and Stiles into the room, and showed them what they'd found. "Do we think this could tell us why she was killed?" Scott asked, looking the diary over.

"It's possible," Lydia said.

"I don't know, from the looks of this place I'm starting to doubt whether or not this chick was anything more than a random victim," Stiles said, glancing around the bedroom. "I mean, look around. This house is completely normal, nothing out of the ordinary anywhere," Something caught his eye, and Stiles frowned. "Is that a dildo?"

Allison rolled her eyes, and closed the panel back up. "Also not out of the ordinary, Stiles," She said. "Move on,"

Stiles nodded. "Right okay... so, we should uh, keep looking," He said, clapping his hands together.

* * *

It was dark by the time they left the house. Besides the diary, nothing more had been found to give them any clues as to what someone might have wanted with Ilse Einarrson's brains. Stiles was right, the whole house reeked of normality. Other than some strange herbs planted in her yard, and a few creepy dolls in her living room, both of which Lydia said were probably from back home in Iceland, the house was nothing more than the typical home of 20-something young woman.

As she drove herself and Scott back home, Allison felt frustrated and angry. She was frustrated that they weren't able to find some kind of obvious clue to help them discover why this woman had been killed, and why her brains were removed. She so badly wanted this to be a one time incident, a specific vendetta against Ilse herself. Because if it wasn't about Ilse, then something new was starting, and more people would soon die. And for now, with so few leads and clues, all they would be able to do was wait for the next body to appear.

Allison hated this, this feeling of helplessness, of impotence. Isn't this why she'd trained as hard as she could, so she would never have to feel helpless again? So she could feel a sense of power, of control?

Unfortunately, Allison knew from experience that no matter how hard and how much she trained, she would never be able to save everyone.

"Lydia will find something," Scott said quietly. Allison glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. It was eerie how even after all this time apart, he still knew exactly what she was thinking. "That diary... it's got to have something worth hiding, right? Or it would have been left out in the open, wouldn't it?"

"I don't know, I mean a lot of girls hide their diaries," Allison said. "Everyone feels they've got something to hide, that's kind of the point of having a diary in the first place,"

"Still," Scott said. "I have a feeling. Lydia will find something,"

Allison nodded, and kept quiet. She didn't want to tell him that she had a feeling it would be just the opposite.

When Allison arrived home that evening, she found her father on the phone. She wondered, for a moment, if it was possible he was still on the same call that he'd been on when she'd left. Allison put down her bag quietly, and watched her father pace around the living room with a furrowed brow.

"No, I understand that but it's not—no, I don't have a  _problem_ it's just—" Chris gritted his teeth, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, I understand," He muttered. There was a tiredness in his voice that worried Allison. Whatever argument he was having, it was clear he was losing. "Alright. Nothing further," He hung up, and looked at the phone for a moment. Allison wondered if he was considering smashing it.

"Everything alright?" Allison asked.

Chris shook his head. "We have a problem," He said.

"Well, whatever it is, we'll figure it out, won't we?" When Chris didn't respond, Allison continued. "So what is it?"

"They're coming," Chris said, taking a seat on the couch. "I tried to stop it, but they're already on their way," He put his head in his hands and groaned.

A small pit opened in Allison's stomach. She sat down next to her father, and put a hand on his shoulder. It was rare she saw him so distressed, and it worried her even more. "Dad? Who's coming?"

Chris looked up, and the look in his eyes did little to calm her. "Hunters," He said. "A lot of them,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, bear with me here (bare)? I know this chapter has a very low Plot to Halemore ratio and I apologize for that. I promise that in the coming chapters there will be more Derek and Jackson being together. I just need to set up a bunch of things and then I swear you'll get more Derek/Jackson!


	7. And the Hits Just Keep on Coming

* * *

 "Courage is about learning how to function despite the fear,  
to put aside your instincts to run  
or give in completely to the anger born from fear.  
Courage is about using your brain and your heart  
when every cell of your body is screaming at your to fight or flee -  
and then following through on what  
you believe is the right thing to do."  
― Jim Butcher, _Ghost Story_

* * *

 

At lunch time Jackson received a message from Allison in their group chat. It said she was calling a meeting on the bleachers, and had something to tell them. A few messages popped up from Lydia and Stiles, saying they were on their way, and then another from Scott, who would be a few minutes late.

As Jackson walked out to the bleachers, he wondered what the odds were that what she had to tell them was good news.

At lunch time Jackson received a message from Allison in their group chat. It said she was calling a meeting on the bleachers, and had something to tell them. A few messages popped up from Lydia and Stiles, saying they were on their way, and then another from Scott, who would be a few minutes late.

As Jackson walked out to the bleachers, he wondered what the odds were that what she had to tell them was good news.

Allison, Lydia, Boyd and Stiles were already sitting there when Jackson arrived, making idle chit chat. Erica and Isaac showed up shortly after Jackson.

"Should we start?" Allison asked, glancing around at them all. "Or do you think we should wait for Scott?"

"He said he'd be late," Jackson said. "Shouldn't we just start without him and fill him in later?" Allison looked hesitant. He wondered if she would be so reluctant to start if it was someone else missing, instead of Scott.

"I think we should wait for Scott," Stiles said. Jackson rolled his eyes, unsurprised. "He'll only be a few minutes, he's just had a couple of questions about the english essay,"

"Yeah, and besides we'll just have to repeat everything when he does show up," Isaac added.

"Alright," Lydia said. "Does anyone else have anything they want to discuss, while we wait?" She asked.

"Yeah, actually," Erica said. "I'm thinking of dip dying my hair," She raised an eyebrow. "Thoughts?"

"What colour?" Allison asked.

"Blue,"

Allison considered this for a moment. "I think that would look nice," She said. "Go for it,"

Lydia made a face. "Blue? No way," She said. "Why not something natural, like a lighter shade of blonde?"

"Because that's incredibly boring?" Erica replied.

"It's not _boring_ it's _subtle,_ "

Erica raised an eyebrow. "Do I seem like a _subtle_ person to you?"

"I have a question," Boyd asked, raising his hand slightly. "What is 'dip dye?'"

"It's when you dye the bottom of your hair," Stiles said. Everyone turned to look at him. "What, I'm not allowed to know things?"

"Hey, sorry I'm late," Scott said, walking up to the bleachers. He put his bag down and took a seat. "So what are we talking about?"

"Erica's hair," Isaac told him.

"Oh," Scott said. He looked at Erica for a moment. "It's really nice,"

"Thanks, Scott," She said, smiling at him. "And it will look even nicer blue," She added. Jackson saw Lydia cross her arms over her chest.

"Alright, now that we're all here, we can start the meeting," Allison said. They all looked at her, waiting for her to deliver the likely horrible news they'd all gathered to hear. "Last night my Dad told me that there are more hunters on their way to Beacon Hills," She said. "And he said there are a lot of them,"

The news felt like a punch to the stomach. On top of everything they were already dealing with, now there were _hunters_ coming? Jackson thought he was going to be sick.

"Well, I mean, can't you guys try to explain to them that we have a truce?" Scott asked. Jackson could hear the doubt in his voice, and knew it was likely Scott knew the answer to his question before the words were out of his mouth. Most hunters were not Allison and her father. They weren't understanding, and they weren't reasonable. In their eyes, werewolves were monsters. And they didn't make truces with monsters.

"We can try," Allison said. Her doubt was just as plain as Scott's. "But we have to prepare for the inevitability that they won't abide by it,"

"So, you mean we're basically all screwed?" Erica asked.

Allison hesitated. "Not necessarily. Hunters have a code, and part of that code dictates that they don't kill young werewolves, so... you guys might be okay..." Allison glanced at Jackson, and her words sunk in.

"We might be okay," Jackson repeated. "But Derek won't be,"

* * *

Derek took the news better than expected. "I'll kill them," He said. "If they try anything, I'll kill them all,"

"Derek, Allison said there's going to be a lot of them," Jackson said, putting his hand on Derek's shoulder. "You can't kill them _all,_ "

"Oh yeah?" Derek asked, standing up. "Watch me,"

"Derek's plan is fine by me," Erica said, leaning against the wall. "I mean, it's not like they wouldn't do the same to us if we were a few years older,"

"Derek's plan isn't a plan," Boyd pointed out. "How are we going to kill them? They're professional werewolf hunters,"

"Simple," Derek said. He held up his hand, and his claws grew. "We use these and rip out their throats,"

Jackson looked at Boyd, and they both shook their heads. "What I don't understand is why now?" He said. "I mean, we've faced so much in the past year and we didn't hear a word from the hunters. Now one body turns up, and they come running?" He frowned. "It doesn't make any sense,"

"Maybe it doesn't have anything to do with the body," Boyd said. "Maybe it's the girls. One _is_ a werewolf, right?"

"Couldn't they just send one or two hunters for one werewolf?" Isaac questioned.

"Ironic as it seems, hunters travel in packs," Derek replied. "Safety in numbers, they don't go anywhere alone,"

"We should run,"

Everyone's head swivelled towards Jackson. Derek looked shocked. "We should get out of town, as fast as we can,"

"Uh, Boyd and I already tried that," Erica pointed out. "It didn't go so well,"

"Well this time we're not going to run off half-cocked into the woods, with no idea of where we're going," Jackson said. "We're going to get into Derek's car, and drive until we're in the next town over,"

"What about school?" Boyd asked.

"And those girls? In case you forgot, they're killing people," Erica added.

"Let the hunters take care of the girls," Jackson said. "Whoever they are, whatever skills they have, it won't matter. They'll be outnumbered and they won't be able to win. And once they're dead, or captured or whatever, the hunters will leave, and we can come back,"

Jackson looked to Derek, who raised his eyebrows. "No," He said.

Jackson jumped to his feet. "Why not?"

"Because I will not be run out of my home by hunters," Derek shouted, his eyes blazing a furious red. "Not now, not ever again!"

"Derek, these hunters aren't Chris Argent," Jackson snapped. "When they kidnap us they won't be setting us free the next day. They'll keep up until we're old enough to kill, and then they'll put down like dogs,"

"Not if we kill them first," Derek snapped back. "There's a lot of them, but there's a lot of us too. We can lure them apart, trap them and kill them. They're just humans, we've faced and beaten worse!"

"I wouldn't count on Scott's help," Isaac said. "If you want to kill people, he'll never go along with it. I mean, the Aluka were one thing, they were practically demons... but he'll never help you kill humans,"

Derek glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "We can do it alone,"

"No, we can't," Jackson said. "We'll lose. They'll kill you, Derek. They might hesitate to kill us but they won't for you," He grabbed Derek's hand. "Please, let's run,"

"I don't want to run," Erica said. "I want to fight." Jackson looked at her, and she crossed her arms. "Derek is right, this is our town. They can go ahead and start something, but we'll finish it,"

Isaac nodded in agreement, and Jackson's heart sunk. He looked at Boyd.

Boyd raised an eyebrow. "I know you guys are all geared up for war," He said. "But you're forgetting something; they don't know who we are," He looked at them. "They're coming to town for these girls, or maybe just the werewolf one. If they knew we were here, don't you think they would have come for us a long time ago?"

Jackson looked at Derek, who seemed surprised. "I guess that's true..."

"Right," Boyd said. "So all we have to do is lay low and stay out of there way. Don't wolf out in front of anyone who could spread the word, keep the howling at the moon to a minimum, and we should be fine," He looked at Jackson. "No running," And at Derek. "No fighting,"

"So we just... do nothing?" Isaac asked.

Boyd nodded. "Exactly, we do nothing," He said. "And everything will be just fine."

* * *

The boy was running for his life. Terror pulsed through his veins. He needed help, needed to run—to get away. They were coming for him, the two of them.

Monsters.

The boy had always known that monsters were real, knew it because he was one himself. He'd been born a monster, inherited his curse from his mother. It had been a point of pride for her, to be able to see death wherever it lurked. She made her fortune off of it, revelled in her curse for years before they came for her, came to stop her from disrupting the natural order of things.

The boy had seen death come for his mother, but had been unable to stop it from coming true. The sense came too late, and before he'd even known what was happening the death cry had left his lips and he'd known she was gone.

Now he feared it was his turn to join her.

He didn't want to die. There was too much, so much left undone, left unsaid. Marissa—he would never hear her laugh again. Never see her smile as she looped her fingers through her curly hair... never tell he loved her.

He would never see the Eiffel Tower. He didn't know why that seemed important now, but it did. He hadn't seen anything in his short life. Why hadn't he travelled when there'd been the chance? Why did he let himself die having seen nothing more exciting than the worlds largest quarter at the Beacon County Inn?

It wasn't fair.

The boy continued to run. He looked behind him and saw nothing but dark alley. It did not make him feel safe.

A girl stepped into the alley, young and pretty. She looked surprised to see him running towards her. "Please, you have to help me—they're after me!"

"Who's after you?"

"Monsters, two of them! Please, we need to run—"

The girl smiled. "Monsters?" The boys heart stopped. Too much teeth... teeth that were too sharp to be human. "Honey, don't you know there's no such things?"

He heard the other one come up behind him. Something sharp pierced his neck, and the boy fell to the ground.

Though he could not see death come for him as he had his mother, the boy knew that these were the last breathes he would ever take. His last thoughts were a prayer, not to any god but to the other monsters out there, the ones with the same curse he and his mother had shared. He prayed his death would not go unwitnessed, and that though it was too late for him to be saved, that someone somewhere would take vengeance for him.

As he lay there dying, some distant part of him thought he heard a girl scream.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I missed this weeks update on Wednesday, I shall update twice. Also this chapter is super short.


	8. Paranormal

* * *

"Supernatural creatures,  
be they vampires, werewolves, or ghosts,  
owed their existence to an overabundance of soul,  
an excess that refused to die."  
—Gail Carriger, _Soulless_

* * *

 

Discarded pieces of paper covered the floor as Lydia sat at her desk drawing furiously. Her fingers were black with charcoal as she drew lines at random, shading here and there with no concept of what picture she was trying to create. Nothing worked. Again and again she tried, and again and again each picture turned into nothing more than a jumbled mess of smudged lines. These she flung on to the floor, not bothering to even make an attempt at getting them in the garbage. She moved on quickly, repeating the process.

Nothing.

Frustrated she picked up her pad and flung it across the room. It hit her dresser, knocking over bottles of perfume and make up.

Tears began to roll down her cheeks. She tried to hold them back but they came anyways. She swiped at them with blackened fingers, smudging charcoal across her cheeks.

Why wouldn't it work? Usually when she drew she was able to get something—a symbol, and impression, a face, a place. _Something_ she could work with. Now nothing came together, just lines and random shaded bits. No complete pictures, nothing concrete...

She'd been drawing crescent moons in the margins of her notebooks for weeks now, but when she sat down and tried to get anything more, nothing happened.

This wasn't supposed to happen. She was supposed to be in control now. She was supposed to know what to do.

Everyone was counting on her. She refused to let them down.

Lydia stood up and wiped at her tears again. She cleared the failed drawings from the floor and put them in her trash bin. Then she went to the washroom and cleaned up.

She took her time applying her make up. Once this process had been about hiding, concealing. She hadn't wanted the world to see her for the mess she truly was. She wanted to appear perfect, pristine. Powerful. Now she no longer cared about hiding. She was not perfect, no one was. To pretend to be was a waste of her precious time.

Still, she enjoyed doing her make up just the same. It gave her a sense of control, in a way. It was no longer a way to hide, but a way to ready herself. She would face the horrors of the day and stand against them, and she would do it with immaculate eyeliner and pastel pink lips. She would be strong, but she would do it on her terms. And her terms included a french manicure.

As she drove to school, her thoughts turned to the boy she hadn't been able to save. He had been a banshee, just like her. And he had died because after all her research, after all her struggling to gain control and learn how to make her abilities work, she still didn't know what she was doing.

No, that wasn't true. He had died because someone decided to kill him. They were the ones to be held responsible, not her. It was not her fault.

Despite knowing this, and knowing it was the logical way to think, she still didn't feel any better.

The vision had to come her in a dream the night before, and Lydia had woken up screaming. Too late to save him, too late to do anything but feel his fear and witness his end. And like a dream, the more she tried to remember the more the details slipped away from her.

Monsters had been chasing him, this much she knew. Two monsters.

She thought a girl had been there, right before he died. He had seen her face, and though she couldn't recall what it looked like, she was knew it was one of the girls they'd found with Ilse Einarrson's body.

Those two girls. They knew what they were, but that information was hardly helpful. They still didn't know what they wanted, or why they were killing people.

But after her vision last night, Lydia had a pretty good idea.

* * *

The office walls were white, and all the furniture was the colour of steel. Jackson didn't like it, and had made that clear on several occasions. Still, Dr. Nehir Kaya refused to redecorate. In fact, in the year he'd been seeing her she'd actually added a chrome bookshelf and a sleek oblong brushed steel table, accompanied by four matching chairs. It drove Jackson nuts.

But the benefits of their sessions made up for his general distaste for the office they took place in, so Jackson begrudgingly learned to live with it.

They sat at the oblong table, two brushed steel chairs pulled out to face each other. She had a pad of paper in her lap, and was jotting down a few notes about what he'd just said. He often wondered what exactly she was writing about him in the notebook, but her writing was too messy to read, especially upside down.  
Dr. Kaya put the pen down and looked up at him. "That's a lot to be dealing with right now," She said.

Jackson raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, no shit," He said.

She arched an eyebrow at him. "How's your anxiety level been over the last few weeks? In our last session you rated it a one, on a scale to three."

Glancing down, Jackson began to fiddle with the sleeve of his shirt. "I don't know.. two, maybe..." He hesitated. "Two point five?" He heard her jot this down in her notebook as well.

"What in particular is causing you the most stress, would you say?" She asked. "These two girls, the hunters that are coming or your impending matriculation?"

Jackson thought about it for a moment. Not the first time, he was glad to have found a therapist he could be fully honest with. He had been introduced to Dr. Kaya through Deaton, who knew her through an emissary friend of his that the doctor had once dated. When they'd first met, Jackson had been under the impression that she was a druid like Deaton, only to be proved wrong. Dr. Nehir Kaya was not, in fact, a druid but instead a bardi. After doing some digging in the Hale family bestiary, he'd learned a bardi is a shapeshifter of turkish folklore, who can change into a jackal. They also have abilities similar to that of a banshee, what with the whole death-scream thing.

"I guess it would have to be the hunters," Jackson said slowly. "I mean, I feel like the girls we can deal with, you know? And college is whatever... But the hunters... I mean, they're trained to kill us," He shook his head. "And I know we have a plan, but it's _barely_ a plan so excuse me for not having all that much faith in it,"

"What's the plan?"

"Ignore the problem until it goes away," Jackson said. The doctor raised her eyebrows. "No, that's not really it. Boyd says that these hunters don't know who we are, so all we have to do is stay out of their way until they're gone, and we should be fine but I don't know..."

"And you would prefer a more active approach to the problem?"

"I'd prefer to run the hell away is what I'd prefer,"

Dr. Kaya raised her eyebrows. "That's a surprise, you're usually so eager to face things head on,"

Jackson shook his head. "Not like this. Not when we're going up against professional killers who won't hesitate to put an arrow in Derek's eye,"

"Ah," Dr. Kaya said, tilting her chin up slightly. "So that's what this is about. It's not just anyone who's danger now, it's Derek,"

Jackson rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you caught me. I'm worried about him, okay? Shocking, I know,"

"Jackson, I know that you feel like you have to protect everyone," Dr. Kaya said, sitting forward slightly. "But like I've told you before, that's not your responsibility. You don't need to take that all onto yourself," Jackson glanced away again, and he heard the doctor sigh. "From what I know about alphas, they tend to have a reputation for being able to handle themselves. Is that not true of Derek?"

Jackson's shoulders slumped slightly. "That's the problem," He said, sounding whiney even to his own ears. "He knows he's strong, and he thinks he strong enough to take them on," Jackson swallowed. "And I'm... I'm just worried about what will happen if he's wrong," He looked up slowly, and saw his doctor looking at him with sympathy. "I can't lose him... I just can't,"

"All you can do is be there for him," She said. "Be there to keep him in check, help him keep a cool head. If you need to fight, fight with him. But you need to let him be there for _you,_ too. Whatever problems there are, face them as a team. Share your worries with him, talk them over together. Don't take all of this stress on yourself, it will only make you sick,"

Jackson nodded. He knew she was right, she always was. "Okay," He said. "I'll do that,"

She smiled, and made a few more notes. "Good," She said. "Now, what's this about college being 'whatever?'"

* * *

Lydia stood outside the loft for a moment, mentally preparing herself. Part of her thought she was being silly and overly emotional, to still have to psych herself up for going in Derek and Jackson's home. Technically, it wasn't even their home. It was Derek and Isaac's. But she knew Jackson was there so often that he may as well have been living there.

It was over a year since they'd broken up. Since she'd learned he'd cheated on her, and was involved with Derek. A year since since they'd decided to put all of that behind them and start over, as friends. A year was a long time, she should be over this by now.

And she was, truly.

And also she wasn't.

Was she still angry that Jackson had cheated on her? No. But it still hurt. Even after the anger had subsided... she wondered if the hurt would ever leave her. Even though she'd forgiven him—really, honestly forgiven him... it all still hurt, just a little.

Lydia turned around, hearing a car pull up behind her. Jackson's car pulled into the parking lot, and Jackson got out of it. He smiled at her, and she made herself smile back at him.

"And where are you coming from?" Lydia asked.

"Therapy," Jackson said, walking up to her and leaning in for a hug.

Lydia nodded. She too had been in therapy for the last year, although she'd actually found the prescribed medications a bit more helpful than the talking. When she really needed to have a heart to heart, Allison was the one she talked to. "How'd it go?"

"Pretty good," Jackson said. He started walking towards the loft, and Lydia followed at a brisk pace. "I whined, she listened. I whined, she gave advice. The usual,"

Lydia smiled. She was glad Jackson got a lot more out of the talking part than she did. Especially since medication would have no effect on him.

They walked inside the building, and Derek pulled the loft door open for them. "You're the first ones here," He said, pulling Jackson in for a quick kiss. Lydia held in a wince. It wasn't the kiss that bothered her, that had been extremely chaste, it was the fact she would now be alone with Jackson and Derek until someone else showed up. She could count the times this had happened on one hand, and she still hadn't quite figured out how to act around them. _So, remember that time you two were screwing behind my back? That sure was fun, huh?_

Lydia shook herself slightly, trying to get a grip. She really should get over this. In that moment, she decided she would. Yes, Jackson had cheated on her. Yes, it had been with Derek. Those were just some facts she'd long ago accepted, and now it was time to move on. She and Jackson were friends, and she cared about him. Derek was the person her friend loved. It was that simple.

Except that it wasn't.

"So what's this meeting about?" Jackson asked, taking a seat at the counter. "And why couldn't we have it at school?"

"I'll tell you when everyone's here," Lydia said.

"Did you have another vision?" Derek asking, going to Jackson's side.

Lydia arched an eyebrow. "I'll tell you," She said. "When everyone's here." Derek sighed deeply, and Lydia pursed her lips. "Everyone is going to show up one by one, and when they get here they're _all_ want to know what's going on. I'd prefer to just say it once, rather than _repeat_ myself five or six times, thank you,"

Reluctantly, Derek nodded. "Alright," He said.

Lydia turned away, and took a seat on the couch. She pulled out her day planner from her bag and began to look through it, more to have something to do than out of actual necessity. Truthfully, her reasons for not telling them why she'd called the meeting went beyond not wanting to repeat herself. It was true she didn't want to have to say what she was going to more than once... but more because she didn't know if she could. The events of her dream were cloudy in her head, the voices she heard and the faces she'd seen were a blur... but she fear she'd felt from the boy as he'd run, the desperation in his final thoughts... that was still fresh in her mind.

She'd failed him. Failed to save him, to see his death coming and stop it.

Logically, she knew she would not be able to save everyone. Even if she tried her hardest, people would still die. Her abilities were not a science, and could not be controlled and measured as one. They were imprecise and tricky.

She knew that.

Not that it made it any easier.

* * *

Once everyone arrived, Lydia stood up from her seat on the couch, and cleared her throat. "I finished translating Ilse Einarrson's diary," She said. "And I think I discovered why she was killed. Ilse was one of the _huldufólk_ ," She paused, as if waiting for a reaction. Jackson looked around, and saw everyone else looked just as non-comprehending as he was. " _Huldufólk_ means 'hidden people' in icelandic. From my understanding, they're similar to elves,"

"And they've got what, candy for brains?" Stiles asked. "I don't get it, why does her being an icelandic elf explain the brain-removal?"

Lydia sighed. "If you'd give me a moment, I'm getting to that," She said. "Last night, another boy was killed by the same two girls. I saw his death, but only as it happened..." Lydia swallowed, and her eyes flickered down for a moment.

"Are you alright?" Jackson asked. At the time time, Allison, Scott and Stiles all spoke up as well.

"Lydia, it wasn't your fault," Allison told her.

"We're gonna catch these bitches, and they'll pay for what they did," Stiles promised.

"You're doing your best," Scott reassured.

Lydia shook her head. "The way it happened... it was as if I could sense his final thoughts," Lydia continued, acting as if no one had spoken. "He was a banshee, just like me. And they killed him."

"And you're sure it was the same girls?" Derek asked. "You saw them?"

Lydia hesitated. "I saw... someone. But I can't remember what her face looked like. She was a young girl, and she had a friend with her. I know it was them, though. The same girls who killed Ilse. I got the same... the same sense from my first vision. I can't explain it, but I know that Ilse and this boy were killed by the same people,"

Scott nodded. "I'll call my Mom, ask if there are any new bodies in the morgue with some missing grey matter,"

Scott walked to the other side of the loft to make the call, and everyone turned back to Lydia.

"I think they're going after people like us," Lydia said. "People who are... different,"

A pit opened in Jackson's stomach as Lydia's words sunk in. First the hunters... now these girls were coming after them too?

Stiles frowned. "That's kind of a serious conclusion to jump to so quickly, isn't it?" He asked. "I mean, my Dad always says one is incidence, two is coincidence..." He shrugged. "This could just be a coincidence,"

"Right, so we'll just sit around twiddling our thumbs until a third body drops, hmm?" Lydia retorted.

Stiles tilted his head slightly. "You do have a point there," He conceded.

Lydia smiled, as if to say she knew that.

They all turned to Scott as he wandered back over, a grim look on his face. "His name was Andres Cabrera," Scott said. "They found him this morning," He paused. "It was just like Ilse. Brain missing, and a toxin from the Japanese Nise Snake in his blood. There were two puncture wounds on his neck, too. Like a snake bite,"

Jackson furrowed his brow. "Okay, so they're not just using the venom from the snake, they're what, actually _carrying a snake around?_ "

"None of this makes sense, right?" Stiles asked, looking around. "We're all on the same page with that right? Lydia, I know you have your theory but you have to admit it doesn't account for any of this,"

Lydia glared at Stiles. "Do you have a better theory?" She asked cooly.

"Snake people," Stiles said. "Brain eating snake people," Everyone groaned, and rolled their eyes. "Bet you wish I'd stuck with zombies now, huh?"

"Lydia, what's your theory?" Scott asked.

"She thinks they're targeting people like you guys," Stiles volunteered. "Paranormal people," He pursed his lips. "It occurs to me we don't have a collective name for that,"

Erica raised her eyebrows. "Why do we need a name? Isn't 'werewolf' good enough for you?"

"I don't just mean a name for _you,_ I mean a name for _all of you,_ " Stiles said, gesturing to them all with his hand. "Werewolves, banshees, aluka, huldufólk, etc," He said. "You know, a kind of catch-all term, like yokai or wesen or something,"

"Stiles, I'm not sure that should be the priority right now," Allison said. "Kind of got bigger things going on?"

Stiles nodded. "Agreed. Still, I'm gonna work on this,"

Isaac rolled his eyes. "You do that,"

"Who else do we know in town who's like us?" Boyd asked. "We need to protect them, or at least warn them that something might come for them,"

Jackson looked around, but no one said anything. After a moment of silence, Allison spoke up. "Marcie Daniels is a werecat," She said.

"Marcie Daniels?" Scott asked. "How? I have two classes with her and I never picked up anything,"

"Her family is in hiding, they all take some kind of herb that dampens their scent and hides their aura," Allison said. "She begged me not to tell anyone, and I promised I wouldn't... but if she's in danger..."

"Why'd she tell _you?_ " Erica asked.

"She didn't," Allison said. "I kind of... caught her. She was in the girls bathroom, crying. I tried to talk to her but she just kept getting more upset until eventually she shifted a bit. At first she tried to play it off like nothing had happened, but after I told her I knew about this stuff, and promised she could trust me, she told me the truth,"

"Does she know about us?" Scott asked. "That we're werewolves?"

Allison nodded. "Yeah, I think that's the only reason she really believed me, you know? Because she knows I'm friends with all of you,"

Scott nodded. "You should be the one to tell her then. Hopefully whatever her family is doing to stay hidden should be enough to keep them safe, but they still need to know what's going on,"

"Okay," Lydia said. "So we have Marcie the ailuranthrope, anyone else?"

"Well," Erica said. "Taylor Patrickson is a pretty serious wiccan, does that count?"

"Do they practice magic?" Derek asked. Erica nodded. "Then that could be enough,"

"Right, I forgot about Taylor," Boyd added.

"Is that all?" Derek asked.

"What about Peter?" Scott said. A collective grumble went around the room at the mention of Derek's uncle. It was not unnoticed by Scott. "I know, I don't like him either... but shouldn't we tell him if he's in danger? I mean, between the hunters and these girls..."

Derek said nothing, and Scott raised his eyebrows. "Come on, Derek. He _has_ helped us out on a few occasions,"

"Oh, so we're all just going to forgive him then?" Lydia asked. "Everything he's done is just forgotten about? How lovely,"

"Of course we're not going to forgive him," Scott said. "Just because I want to warn him doesn't mean I don't remember who he is, and what he's done," Scott sighed. "Alright, forget I said anything."

"Forgotten," Said Lydia and Derek, in unison. An awkward pause followed, where both of them glanced at their feet.

Shortly after, the meeting came to an end and everyone began to file out. Isaac mentioned being hungry, and asked if they all wanted to grab a bite to eat at the greek place a few blocks over. Erica and Boyd agreed, Jackson and Derek declined.

Once they were alone, Derek put a hand on Jackson's shoulder. "Alright, what's wrong," Derek asked. He stood behind him, and pressed his lips against Jackson's neck. "Come on, I can smell it on your skin," He muttered.

"Derek, you know it creeps me out when you smell my emotions, right?" Jackson mumbled.

"Mmm, but I can, so I know something's wrong," Derek replied, kissing slowly up Jackson's neck. Jackson's eyes began to close as he enjoyed the sensation. Slowly, he felt the knot in his stomach begin to ease. "I can't ignore it,"

"You could," Jackson said. He pulled away, and turned around so that they were facing each other. "We could both ignore it, in favour of something else..." He reached up and kissed him, lightly on the corner of his mouth.

Derek frowned. "We should talk about it," He said quietly. "If something's bothering you, we should talk about it."

"We should..." Jackson whispered against Derek's mouth. He kissed him again, and he could feel Derek getting lost in him.

Derek broke away suddenly, and Jackson sighed. "Jackson, if something's wrong, I want to help. Did something happen at therapy today, or was it what Lydia said?" He put a hand against Jackson's face. "Talk to me, please,"

Jackson sighed again, and looked down. "It's nothing," He mumbled. "I'm being stupid," A soft voice in his head, which sounded suspiciously like Dr. Kaya, told him he shouldn't belittle his emotions. _What you feel has merit, Jackson. It's not stupid._ "I'm just... I'm worried, I guess,"

"About the girls?" Derek asked. "Don't worry, we'll figure it out,"

Jackson shook his head. "It's not that," He paused. "Well, it is, but not just that..."

"What is it then?"

"It's..." Jackson bit his bottom lip. He wanted to tell Derek how worried he was about the hunters, about him. Worried that he would go after them, or do something to make them come after him. "It' just everything," He said. "It's just a lot to deal with,"

Derek nodded. "Well, just remember you don't have to deal with any of it alone," He said. He pulled Jackson close and pressed their mouths together in a soft kiss. "You always think you have to handle everything by yourself," He whispered. "You don't,"

Jackson closed his eyes, and allowed himself to be swept up in the presses of Derek's mouth and the feeling of his arms holding him, keeping him safe. He wanted to get lost in this moment, when it was just him and Derek and the rest of the world felt far away. Soon, too soon, reality would come for them both and despite what Derek said, Jackson had the terrible feeling that they would both be facing it alone.


	9. Girls

* * *

"I have gone out, a possessed witch,  
haunting the black air, braver at night;  
dreaming evil, I have done my hitch  
over the plain houses, light by light:  
lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind.  
A woman like that is not a woman, quite.  
I have been her kind."  
—Anne Sexton, _Her Kind_

* * *

 

Allison and her father stood in the airport, waiting in silence. All around them families were reuniting happily, running towards each other, eager for a hug after whatever length of time they'd been separated for. A few feet from Allison a couple was kissing strangely, pressing their mouths together while unable to keep the smiles off their faces.

Allison could not remember what her fathers cousin Catherine looked like. She knew she had met her once, but she had no recollections of the woman. Everything she knew about her is what her Dad had told her over the past few days. He said that Catherine was a good woman, loyal and a good judge of character. But she'd lost her husband when Allison was small, and that had hardened her. She'd drawn back from her family, and pushed away those that cared about her.

This was the first time Chris would be seeing her in over ten years.

A small nudge from her father drew Allison out of her thoughts. "There they are," He said, gesturing in the direction of a group of people walking towards them. Allison's stomach flipped; there must have been more than twenty of them. "Which one is Catherine?" She asked.

"The Chinese one in the black and white sweater," Chris said. Allison raised an eyebrow. "Catherine was adopted,"

The group of drew closer, and Allison realized they were almost entirely women. She could see two men amongst them, but that was all. At the groups front was a tall black woman with a curly abundance of steel coloured hair. She wore a sleek black pencil skirt that came to just above her knees, revealing one shiny silver prosthetic leg.

"Viola Cacciatori," Chris said quietly, nodding to the woman in front. "Their leader. Catherine says she's the most ruthless woman she's ever met,"

Allison nodded.

Catherine broke away from the group, and headed towards Chris. "Chris, holy crap it's been so long!" She cried, throwing her arms around her cousin. Allison was surprised by the hug, and by the warmth in the woman's voice. From what he'd told her, she'd expected someone less enthusiastic. "My god, you're so scruffy!"

"Catherine, you look well," Chris replied, patting her awkwardly on the back.

Catherine pulled back and smiled at him, then turned to Allison. "And oh my god, Allison! I swear you were this chubby little baby like five seconds ago!" She said, sweeping Allison up in a tight hug. "Look at you, you're like a model, what the hell?!"

Allison laughed, and hugged the woman back. Nervous as she was about the hunters being in town, she kind of liked Catherine.  
They broke apart, and Allison saw that the rest of the group had caught up. Viola stood looking expectantly at Catherine, waiting for an introduction. "Right, right," Catherine said, stepping back. "Allison, Chris, I'd like you to meet Viola Cacciatori, the head of our little party," She said. "Viola, this is my cousin Chris Argent and his daughter Allison,"

Viola extended a hand, and Chris reached out to shake it. "It's nice to finally meet you two," She said, with a slight Italian accent. She let go of Chris' hand, and then extended it to Allison. Allison paused, surprised, and then shook it as well. Her skin was hard and rough, clearly the hands of someone who was used to tough work, and her grip was firm but gentle. "I understand Catherine has chosen to stay with you two?"

Chris nodded. "She'll be taking Allison's room, and Allison will be staying at her friend's house while you're in town,"  
Catherine looked distressed. "Oh no, I couldn't!" She said. "I'm sorry, when I asked if I could stay with you I had no idea I'd been kicking you out, Allison,"

Allison smiled. "It's really fine, I swear," She said. Truthfully she'd been planning on either staying with Lydia, or bringing Lydia to stay at her house anyways. With killers looking for anyone supernatural, it wasn't safe for Lydia to be on her own anymore. Having Catherine at her house just gave her a plausible excuse to give to Lydia's parents about why she'd be living there for a while.

"Are you sure?" Catherine asked. "You're not just saying that because you're a great kid? If you're not sure, honestly just tell me and I will be out of there like that," She said, snapping her fingers.

"I'm sure," Allison promised.

* * *

Stiles clutched his baseball bat in his hands, keeping it hoisted above his shoulder as he walked. The bat had been a birthday gift from Scott, after his last one had been destroyed in the fight against a particularly nasty fairy back in March. The bat was matte black, with letters emblazoned in white which read _Cold Steel Brooklyn Smasher._ According to Scott, the bat was reputed to be unbreakable. Stiles doubted that; if there was anything he'd learned over the last few years of his life, it was that everything could be broken.

Still, he was fond of it.

The night was quiet, and there was an uneasy feeling in Stiles' stomach. "So, I've been thinking," He began, in an attempt to ignore the not-so-great feeling in his gut. "About the whole name thing, for you guys—"

To his far left, Boyd groaned. "Seriously, man?" He mumbled.

Isaac, to his immediate left, seemed to concur. "I thought you let that go,"

"I _definitely_ never said that," Stiles said. "I just said I wouldn't make it a priority,"

"Uh huh," Boyd said, exchanging looks with Isaac.

Truth be told, he had spent more time on it than he had meant to. It wasn't his main priority, obviously. No, priority number one was research. Looking into Lydia's theory, looking into the lore of oculuses, looking for anything anywhere that could tell him what these girls might want with the brains of supernatural people. That came first.

But in spare moments, when he didn't have access to his computer or any of the books he'd collected over the last year, moments when he couldn't do anything helpful... coming up with the name had been a good distraction. Better to have that to think about, than spending all of his time worrying about how almost all of his friends were being hunted for their brains.

Stiles glared at them both. "Remind me again why we need them with us?"

"Safety in numbers," Scott, on his right, reminded. "We're being hunted. Better to double up on patrols. So what were you thinking?"

Tearing himself away from Isaac's stupid grin, Stiles turned to Scott. "I have a few suggestions, but out of consideration, I thought I'd run them by you guys before I settled on anything,"

Scott nodded. "Okay, shoot,"

"Well, at first I was looking at words in other languages—something to mean monster, or creature,"

Scott raised an eyebrow. "Monster? That's kind of rude, dude,"

"Or creature," Stiles repeated.

Scott pursed his lips. "Not less rude,"

"Well it's not what I went with, anyways, so it's a moot point," Stiles paused. "I mean, I _was_ seriously considering _mononoke,_ but I figured the association with the movie would be too strong, so I junked it,"

"What movie?"  
 _  
"_ _Princess Mononoke,"_ Boyd said. "It's a Japanese animated film by Hayao Miyazaki."

Isaac snorted. "Nerd,"

Boyd ignored him, and Stiles nodded. "Yeah, exactly. And I mean, it's a great movie, but I figure we should still go a different route. After that I started thinking about coming up with a new word, one that combined elements of other words. Bizzariant, peculien, Creaturalite... but none of them sounded right,"

"Look, Stiles, fascinating as this story is, do you mind skipping to the end?" Isaac said, raising his eyebrows. "What word did you pick?"

Stiles glared again. "In the end, I just decided to go with a word that already existed, in english." He said. "So it's between deviant and aberrant."

"Deviant has a lot of negative connotations," Boyd pointed out.

"Yeah, but I mean it in the sense of like—you guys deviate from the norm,"

Scott tiled his head slightly. "Mmm, still," He said.

"Aberrant isn't bad," Isaac said thoughtfully.

"Yeah, it's actually kind of cool sounding," Scott agreed. "It could work,"

"I don't know..." Boyd said.

"Aw come on," Stiles said, smacking him on the arm. "Pretend like you don't hate my guts for a moment and consider it objectively,"

Boyd glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "I don't hate your guts," He said, not very convincingly. Stiles raised an eyebrow. "Hate is a strong word,"

"It does kind of seem like the right word, though," Scott said, looking at Boyd.

Boyd sighed. "Fine, the name isn't bad. Still, I'm not sure I can see it catching on."

Stiles shrugged. "If it doesn't, I'll find something else." He said. "Let's just give it a while and see."

* * *

Jackson walked in line with Allison and Erica, doing their usual patrol of the town. Only it _wasn't_ their usual patrol, because now they were all in more danger than ever. Well, Jackson and Erica at least, although he couldn't imagine anyone who attacked them would just be able to _ignore_ Allison. She wouldn't let them, and in the process she could get herself killed as well.

He was alternately happy and not, that Derek and Lydia were back in the relative safety of the loft. Lydia, while being supernatural and yet possessing no super strength or claws to defend herself with, had opted to not come on patrol with them. In stead she was back in the loft, continuing her research.

It had been Stiles who suggested Derek stay with her. Apparently it was "villain tactics 101" to draw all of the fighters away, and then attack the ones left behind, knowing they would be unable to defend themselves. So instead of leaving Lydia defenceless, they had left her with a grumpy but capable protector.

And while Jackson was glad that Lydia would be safe with Derek, and Derek would be safe not out on the streets, part of him still wished that Derek was patrolling with him.

"What do these girls look like again?" Jackson asked. "I'd hate to accidentally attack the wrong teenagers,"

"Yeah, that'd be awkward," Erica agreed. "Although if we run into Cordie Summers, don't hold me back,"

"We're not going to attack Cordie Summers," Allison said. Despite her words, there was a small smirk on her face. Jackson could tell the idea of attacking her wasn't _entirely_ unappealing. Jackson didn't blame her, especially after the business with Coride and Lydia in the 10th grade. Though he did understand that Cordie was likely being manipulated by the Hasting sisters when she'd attacked Lydia, it was still a difficult thing to just forgive. It might've been easier if she wasn't so much of a _pain_ the rest of the time.

"Fine, fine," Erica said, waving her hand dismissively. "So the girls, describe them again,"

"Well, the oculus is black, and her hair is braided. She was about my height, and thin but strong looking. She had brown eyes, and they glowed blue," Allison said. "No scars or distinctive markings that I could tell, beyond the whole blue-glowing-eyes thing,"

"And the werewolf?" Jackson asked.

"She was white, long dark hair... a few inches shorter than me, thin... she was fully shifted the whole time, so it's hard to say what she'd look like out of the shift. Blue eyes,"

Jackson nodded. Blue eyes, just like him. Whoever this wolf was, she'd killed innocents.

"I wouldn't worry about attacking the wrong girls though," Allison continued. "If we find them I'll signal you guys,"

Jackson nodded. "What's the signal?" He asked.

"I'll say, 'that's them,'"

Erica snorted. "Subtle, I like it," She said.

"So..." Jackson began, trying to keep his tone casual. "The hunters arrived today, right?" Jackson glanced at Allison. She nodded. "Did  
you meet them?"

"Yeah, but there's like twenty-five of them," Allison said. "I didn't exactly have time to get to know them all one-on-one."  
Jackson swallowed. Twenty-five people in town who wanted to kill them. Twenty seven counting the two girls. Jackson felt dizzy.

"Well?" Erica pressed. "What are they like?"

Allison paused. "Not really what I was expecting," She said. "At least, my Dad's cousin isn't. She seems kind of cool, actually. Nice,"

"Isn't that what you thought about your aunt, too?" Jackson asked. Erica smacked him on the arm and gave him a look. "What? I'm just saying, people aren't always what they seem!"

"That was an asshole thing to say," Erica snapped.

Jackson sighed. "Fine," He said. "Sorry, Allison,"

Allison nodded. "It's fine," She said, not looking at all fine. Jackson suddenly felt terrible. He really was an asshole.

Jackson opened his mouth to apologize again more sincerely, but stopped. "Wait, I hear something,"

"Probably another car," Erica said, unimpressed. Then she too froze. "No, I hear it too,"

"What is it?" Allison asked, notching an arrow as she looked around, alert.

Jackson strained to listen. It was a hard padding noise, like feet pounding the pavement.

"Running," Erica said. "Someone's running towards us,"

"What are the odds it's someone going for a midnight jog?" Jackson mumbled. The noise stopped abruptly. Voices began to speak.

"They're saying something," Erica said.

It was two girls speaking. They sounded upset.  
 _  
—_ _We lost them—_

_—They're out here somewhere, we just—  
_

_—Face it, they're gone!—  
_

_—Well we need to find them!—_

Erica relayed what was being said to Allison, who frowned. "Lost who?" Allison murmured. "You don't think..."

"They're talking about the others?" Erica finished. "Yeah, I do,"

"Let's go," Jackson said, striding forward.

* * *

"No, no way," Stiles said, shaking his head. "You can't be serious,"

Boyd raised his eyebrows. "I'm serious," He said.

"Boyd, come on, think about what you're saying!" Stiles cried, throwing his arms up in the air.

"Alright," Boyd said, pausing as if to think. "I thought about it. I stand by my opinion,"

Stiles shook his head. "No way. No _way_ is _Kiki's Delivery Service_ a better movie than _Spirited Away!_ "

"I'm not saying it's a better movie," Boyd replied. "I'm saying I like it better. _Spirited Away_ is fine, but I just prefer _Kiki._ "

Stiles huffed, calming slightly. It occurred to him that he was getting worked up for no reason, and he should probably calm down. "Alright, sorry," He said.

Boyd looked surprised at the apology. "It's fine,"

"Can I ask why?" Stiles asked. "I mean, not in a condescending way, I'm just curious."

Boyd pursed his lips, and didn't answer. Stiles opened his mouth to press him, but Isaac nudged him slightly with his elbow. When Stiles looked at him, he mouthed _let it go._ Stiles raised an eyebrow, slightly confused.

"My sister and I used to watch it together," Boyd said after a minute, staring straight ahead. "It was one of her favourites,"

"Oh," Stiles said, suddenly feeling even more like an asshole than he had a moment ago. They'd all learned what happened to Boyd's sister back when they'd been under attack by the Hastings sisters. Her name was Alicia and she was 8 years old when she'd gone missing. Boyd had taken her to the ice-rink during free skate. He'd turned his back for a moment, and she was gone.  
When Stiles had first met him, Boyd had been working at that exact ice-rink. Sometimes he wondered if he'd been waiting for her to come back.

Boyd shrugged. "It's fine," He said. "It's just... it's fine,"

Stiles opened his mouth, but then closed it again without saying anything. What could he say? They all knew it wasn't fine, and it never would be. Nothing he could say would change that. Stiles knew better than most people what it was like to lose someone who meant everything to you. It was something you learned to live with, something you had to bear every day. Some days were less terrible than others, sure... but even on the very best of days, it would never be fine. Not ever.

They walked on in silence.

Suddenly, Scott stopped. He furrowed his brow, and looked off into the distance. Boyd and Isaac all stopped as well, and followed Scott's lead.

"You hear that?" Boyd asked.

Scott and Isaac nodded.

"Sounds like..." Scott began.

"Yeah," Isaac finished.

Stiles gritted his teeth, and waited for them to tell him what they were all hearing, that his pathetic human ears were too weak to pick up. He put his hands on his hips, and tapped his foot. "Okay, come seriously, what are you hearing?"

"Crying," Scott said. "A girl crying,"

"It's getting closer," Isaac said. "She's running towards us."

"Come on," Boyd said, heading in the direction Stiles assumed the crying was coming from. They went after him, and after a minute Stiles could hear the crying himself. She must have been close.

_"_ _Help me, please—oh god, someone help!"  
_

Stiles could hear the fear in the girl's voice, and it made the hair on his arms stand on end.

"There!" Boyd said, pointing off in the distance.

Stiles squinted, and was able to make out a small pinprick in the distance. The pinprick eventually turned into the shape of a girl stumbling towards them. Her clothes were torn and her blond hair was matted with fresh blood.

The girl spotted them and waved her arms, increasing the pace of her stumble. "Please, you have to help me—!" She collapsed on the road, and they ran over to her.

Stiles knelt down in front of her, setting his bat aside, and put his hand on her shoulder. "Hey, hey it's alright," He said. The girl began to sob, and she leaned towards him as if looking for comfort. He put his arms around her almost instinctively. "What's happening, what's wrong?"

"We have to get away, we have to run—" She choked, burying her face against Stiles shoulder.

"Who did this to you?" Scott asked, crouching in front of her. "Was it two girls?"

The girl pulled her face away from Stiles and nodded. "They attacked me," She said. "I managed to get away, but they came after me..." She turned to Stiles. "We have to go, they'll find me,"

"Don't worry, you're safe," Stiles assured her. "We won't let anyone hurt you," He reached up to stroke her hair, and his hand came away bloody. There was an open wound on her head that was still bleeding, and he pulled his hoodie off and pressed it against the wound. "She's bleeding a lot, we need to get her to Deaton's,"

"Please, don't let them get me," The girl sobbed.

"We're not gonna let anyone hurt you," Stiles repeated. "But we need to get you someplace where we can patch you up, you're loosing a lot of blood,"

"Just take me some place safe, the wound is nothing," She said.

Stiles furrowed his brow. Then the obvious occurred to him. He pulled his hoodie away. "You're one of them, aren't you?" He asked, though he could see her wound had already healed. "You're an aberrant,"

The girl looked confused. "A what?"

"Someone supernatural," Scott said. "Stiles, help her up,"

Slowly Stiles and the girl got to their feet. The girl stumbled slightly, and Boyd caught her before she could fall backdown. She kept a hand on his shoulder, taking a moment to steady herself. "Thank you," She said to Boyd, giving him what Stiles thought was intended to be a smile.

Stiles waited a moment, until she seemed to have regained her composure. "What's your name?" He asked. "I'm Stiles. This is Scott, Boyd and Isaac. They're werewolves,"

The girl looked surprised for a moment. "I'm Jessy. I'm... I'm a werecoyote..."

Scott frowned. "You smell human..." He said.

Stiles glared at him. "Scott, she's in shock, stop smelling her,"

"Sorry," Scott said.

"It's something my parents gave me," Jessy said. "It keeps us smelling human, so we can't be tracked,"

Isaac nodded. "Like Marcie Daniels," He said.

Jessy frowned. "Who?"

"Never mind," Boyd said, looking around. "Look, if those girl were chasing her then we shouldn't be sitting out here. We need to go,"

Jessy nodded. "Yes, running, let's go,"

"Hey, now we're not running," Stiles said. "We're making a calculated retreat,"

Jessy rolled her eyes. "Call it whatever you want, let's just get the hell out of here, okay?"

* * *

Jackson, Allison and Erica ran towards where it seemed as if the girls voices were coming from. "Do you guys have their scent?" Allison asked, looking around with her bow drawn.

Erica raised an eyebrow. "Their scent? How the hell would we know what they smell like, they're total strangers,"

"Oh,"

"They've got to be around here somewhere," Jackson mumbled, looking around the darkened streets and seeing nothing but cars and buildings—

A flash of something blue in an alleyway.

Jackson furrowed his brow, and before he could open his mouth to say something, a knife came whizzing out of the darkness, straight for Allison. Jackson dove for her and knocked her to the ground.

From the alleyway, two girls emerged from the shadows, walking straight towards them. Jackson and Allison scrambled to their feet, and Allison snatched up another arrow from her quiver.

"That's them," She said, sending the arrow flying towards the oculus.

The wolf girl smacked it out of the air before it impacted her friends shoulder, knocking it away from them as it exploded. Allison gritted her teeth and sent two more arrow in quick succession towards the wolf, but she dodged them both and then lunged at Allison.

The oculus drew another knife from a belt on her hips and came at Jackson with it. He moved quickly, dodging her and moving around her to gain the upper hand. "Out of the way, lover-boy, our fights not with you," The girl hissed.

"I doubt that," Jackson retorted, going in to a full shift. He raised a clawed hand and swiped at her, but she dodged him, rolling onto the ground and out of his grasp. When she came back up she pulled something out from a pocket in her belt. She held up her hand and blew on it, sending something like purple dust in Jackson's direction. Instinctively he closed his eyes, and a searing pain lit up his whole body. He screamed and fell to the ground, distantly hearing Erica call his name.

The world began to turn black, and Jackson struggled to hold on. He needed to stay awake, needed to fight...

As everything spun out of control, Jackson's thoughts turned to Derek. Though he was glad he was safe, he did wish he'd been able to see him just one last time.


	10. The Crescent Moon

 

* * *

"There are nights  
when the wolves are silent,  
and only the moon howls."  
—George Carlin, _Brain Droppings_

* * *

Derek sat on his couch, turning the pages of a large leather bound tome about various monsters and supernatural creatures that are sometimes known to consume brains for survival. He was surprised by the sheer number of creatures that he hadn't known lived off of brains.

He thumbed the corner of a well worn page about the Arabic _ghilan._ He already knew that wasn't the creature they were looking for, as the text stated it typically preyed on young children, or was known to eat the brains of the dead. Derek breathed in as he turned the page, taking in the musty scent wafting from the book. He couldn't say why he loved the smell of old books so much, he only knew that he did. Jackson had teased him about it on more than one occasion, calling him old fashioned. Maybe he was.

The smell reminded of him of home, he supposed. Or, the home he had lost. He remembered countless hours spent playing in the library of his old house when he was very young, begging his parents to tear themselves away from whatever research they were doing and join him. He remembered sunlight streaming through the open windows as he sat at the tables himself, studying for some high school test. He remembered the way the library had smelt just like the old book in his hands.

He wished he'd been able to show that home to Jackson. Wished he could take him through the house as it had once been, gleaming and beautiful and full of life, not burnt and crumbling as it now stood.

But that was a stupid thing to wish for, and he knew that. That home and the life he had lived in it were gone, every single part of it burnt up and destroyed forever. Jackson would never see the place Derek had used to live in, never meet his family. He accepted that, but that didn't make the thought of it any easier.

"Have you found anything?"

Derek looked up and across the room at Lydia, who wore a frustrated look on her face. He shook his head, and Lydia made an angry noise and slammed her book closed. "I'm sick of books," She said, moving the volume she'd been reading out of the way and grabbing up her computer instead. Two hours ago she'd done the same thing with the computer, and grabbed the book instead. "I'm going to expand my search in the database," She said, clicking on the computer. "Instead of things that eat brains, I'm going to look for things that eat _any_ organ _,_ "

Derek nodded. "Good idea," He said.

Lydia clicked around on the computer, and then sat back and waited for her search to load. The database Deaton had given them was extensive, and it took a while to search through the whole thing. As she waited, Derek saw her glance over at him. She looked away quickly. He wondered if she was thinking of saying something further to him. Should he say something to her? So far they'd only exchanged a handful of sentences, mostly about what each of them was doing as far as research went.

He wished Jackson was with him, both because this would be considerably less awkward with him here, and because if Jackson was inside with him and Lydia, then he wouldn't be out on the streets looking for two maniacs that wanted them dead. He hated that he hadn't been able to go with him, that he was forced to stay inside and play babysitter to Lydia.

That wasn't fair. It was not Lydia's fault her powers made her a target, but gave her no way to defend herself. To leave her on her own would make her a sitting duck. And Derek was sure Lydia liked this situation no more than he did. Liked it even less, probably. Not only would she be feeling helpless, which Derek knew Lydia hated to feel, she was forced to be looked after by the person he boyfriend had cheated on her with.

Derek swallowed, and looked at Lydia, who was currently examining her finger nails with an unsatisfied look on her face. He should say something to her, apologize for what had happened. That would the right thing to do.

A moment passed. Derek looked at Lydia and said nothing.

Lydia looked up, saw him staring. "What is it?"

Derek cleared his throat. "Uh, is the uh... is the search done?" He asked, feeling like a moron. What was his problem? Was he afraid of Lydia? That was ridiculous, obviously. He was an alpha, and she had no offensive powers and very little training. Still...

Lydia glanced at the computer screen, and clicked around a bit. She nodded. "Mmhmm," She said. "There's over 3000 results," She said. She clicked something, and then made a face. "Holy hell, have you ever heard of a _daribus?_ " She asked.  
Derek shook his head.

"It's a cousin to the succubus," Lydia explained. "It takes the form of a beautiful woman, and preys on unfaithful men..." She glanced at Derek. "Guess what organ they eat?"

Derek's mouth opened slightly.

Outside of the loft, he heard the sound of a car pulling up. Relief came over him, and he stood up. "Someone's back," He said.

"Who?" Lydia asked.

Whoever it was stepped out of the car, and Derek breathed in. "Allison, Erica and Jackson," He said. Then he frowned. He could only hear two sets of footsteps. "Something's wrong..."

Derek went to the loft door and pulled it open. He could tell there was something off about Jackson's scent. He was hurt.  
Erica and Allison entered the front of the building, and Derek saw Jackson slung over Erica's shoulder. He rushed over and took him from her. He was unconscious, but seemed otherwise unharmed. "What happened?" Derek asked, carrying Jackson back inside the loft. "What's wrong?"

Lydia stood up as they entered, looking questioningly from Jackson to Erica and Allison. Waves of worry came off of her.

Erica and Allison followed him in. "We ran into those girls," Erica explained. "The oculus had wolfsbane powder on her,"

"Jackson got it all over him," Allison said. Derek laid Jackson down on the bed, and took his face in his hands. Jackson's breathing was steady, but his pulse was racing. He was in pain, and Derek took it from him. Jackson's pulse slowed slightly.

"But he's going to be okay, right?" Lydia said. "Wolfsbane can't kill you, can it?"

"It depends on the method of delivery," Derek said. "A wolfsbane bullet or injection could be deadly... in powder form he should be alright,"

Lydia, Allison and Erica all sighed. "How's his arm?" Erica asked. Derek furrowed his brow. "I uh, broke it," She confessed. "To trigger the healing process,"

Derek nodded. He looked at Erica, and wondered if she too was having a sense of deja vu. Jackson injured, unconscious... having to break his arm to help him heal. It wasn't anything like the time the Hasting sisters had manipulated Jackson into attempting suicide, but Derek couldn't help thinking of it all the same. "That should help," Derek said. He touched Jackson's arm, inspecting it. "It's healed already,"

"What happened with the girls?" Lydia asked. "I don't suppose you have them tied up in your trunk, do you?"

Allison shook her head. "We fought, but they got away. We would have gone after them, but..." She glanced at Jackson.

Derek swallowed. "Thank you," He said.

Erica nodded. "There's something else," She said. "I noticed something, when we were fighting them,"

Derek stared at her, waiting for her to continue. "What?" He asked.

Erica glanced away, and then back to Derek. "They both had marks on their neck," She said. "It looked like a scar on the oculus girl, but on the werewolf it was tattooed on,"

"What were the marks?" Lydia asked.

Erica looked at her. "Crescent moons," She replied. Lydia's jaw clenched slightly. "Boyd says you've been drawing those a lot, huh?"

Lydia nodded. She grabbed a notebook she'd been using, and flipped it open. "I've been drawing them everywhere," She said, showing them the book. A few notes were jotted in a neat handwriting, but the majority of the page was taken up the simple outline of a crescent moon, drawn in various sizes. "I've got no idea what it means. I mean, I've done my research and I know their are about a thousand meanings it could have, but I don't know what it means for _us,_ "

Erica turned back to Derek, her jaw set. "He does," She said.

Derek glanced away, and looked back at Jackson.

"Come on, Derek," Erica snapped, stepping closer to him. "What aren't you telling us? Boyd asked you about this a week ago, and you brushed him off,"

"Do you know something about these girls?" Allison asked. "Because if you do, you _need_ to tell us,"

"They hurt Jackson," Lydia said. "They could have killed him! If you're holding something back—"

"I'm not!" Derek snapped, turning to the three girls berating him and flashing red eyes. "I don't know anything about these girls. If I did, I would have said so,"

Erica continued to glare. "But you know _something_ don't you?" She pressed.

Derek hesitated. He didn't want to talk about this, didn't like the dredge up the memories. "I knew someone... a long time ago," He began slowly. "She used that symbol. She would... she would sign it on notes and other things," Derek swallowed. "When I came home and found my house on fire, I ran inside and found that symbol burning on my living room wall." He glanced away, the memory still too vivid in his mind. He could still smell the fire, still feel the smoke stinging his eyes... still remember Laura dragging him out of the house again, collapsing together on the grass.

When Allison spoke, the harshness was gone from her voice. "My aunt," She said. Derek nodded.

Erica frowned. "That doesn't make any sense," She said. "Why would a werewolf hunter use the moon as their symbol?"

"It's not just a crescent moon," Derek said, feeling tired. "It's also one of the alchemical symbols for silver," Derek a seat on the edge of bed, and rubbed his eyebrows. "There's more than one symbol for silver," He mumbled. "She picked the moon because it was ours. Because she wanted to twist it. Let us know that there was nothing we had that she couldn't take,"

"Well, I guess now we know something about them," Erica said.

Derek nodded. "Whoever these girls are..." He said. "They knew Kate,"

* * *

It was dark when Jackson woke up, returning to consciousness with a sickening jolt. He bolted up on the bed, looking around for the girl who'd he'd been fighting with, for Erica and Allison.

Instead he found Derek by his side, hand on his shoulder, gently telling him to calm down. "It's alright, you're okay Jackson," He said.

"Erica and Allison, what happened to them?" Jackson asked.

"They're fine too, they brought you here. They waited around for a while, but eventually they had to leave. You should give them a call, let them know you're alright."

Jackson nodded, and put his head in his hands. There was a pounding in his temples that felt like someone had put his head in a vice and was slowly squeezing it around him. His mind felt murky, like everything had become slow and dark and impossible to see through. He remembered fighting the oculus girl, remembered her doing something... a powder. She'd blown a purple powder in his face, and it had burned him. Then everything was black. "I thought I was dead for sure," Jackson mumbled. "What did that bitch do to me?"

"Wolfsbane powder," Derek said. "Not fatal, but not pleasant either," Derek reached for something on the bedside table. "I made you some fennel tea, but it's cold now. I'll warm it up for you," Jackson nodded.

Derek warmed the tea for him in the microwave, then brought it back over. Jackson sipped it slowly, imagining that he could feel the hot liquid washing away the poison that girl had given him.

"Erica and Allison noticed something, during the fight," Derek said.

"What, how completely useless I am?" Jackson muttered, cupping his hands around the mug.

"You're not useless, Jackson, you were poisoned. No one could be excepted to remain conscious with a face full of wolfsbane,"

Jackson sighed. "Alright, what did they notice?"

"Those girls have marks on their necks," Derek said. His eyes flickered down slightly, and Jackson saw his jaw clench. Jackson put his tea down and moved closer, taking Derek's hand in his. Derek leaned in to him, and pressed their foreheads together. "It's Kate mark," He mumbled. "The half moon crescent, it's what she always used..."

"Hey, remember, she's dead," Jackson said, running his hand along Derek's arm. "She can't hurt you anymore,"

Derek shook his head, pulling away. "You know that's not true," He said.

"You're right, I do know that," Jackson said. "And I also know that you're stronger than her, alive or dead,"

Derek was quiet for a moment. He turned away. "I'm not," He said. His voice was small and sad. "I... it's a lie. My strength, my power... it's a fucking lie," He put his head in his hands. "I'm weak. It's all I've ever been,"

Jackson pressed himself to Derek side. "Bullshit," He said, pulling Derek's face towards him. He looked him in the eye, hating the sad defeat he saw staring back at him. "You're strong, Derek. You're the strongest person I know, and you want to know why? It's not because you're the Alpha, and it's not because you can punch a hole in a wall or kick everyone's ass in a fight. It's because after everything she put you through, everything she took from you, you never gave up,"

"I did give up," Derek said, barely speaking above a whisper. There was a look almost like fear in his eyes, like he was afraid Jackson was going to agree with him. That everything thing he thought about himself was true, and he was a worthless coward just like he thought. "There were so many times... so many days..."

"But you kept going," Jackson countered. "Every time you thought you gave up, every time you thought you couldn't go on, you _did._ And there are bad days, and fucking terrible days and sometimes it's too much but you _kept going._ And that takes strength. Even when you feel nothing but weak, you're strong, Derek,"

Derek looked at him, and Jackson leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against his mouth. They lay back on the bed together, Derek resting his head against Jackson's chest, arms circled around his waste. "Can I tell you what Dr. Kaya told me, last time I had a nervous breakdown in her office?" Jackson asked, running his fingers through Derek's hair. Derek said nothing, and Jackson figured that meant OK. "She said the people who hurt us... Matt, Kate... they chose to do that to us. They made the choice to be abusers, and to make us into their victims. And that's—we don't have to be ashamed of that. Because it's not on us, it's on them. The idea that it's shameful to be a victim, that's just something else the abusers use to hurt us. Because—because now not only did they hurt us, they've made us ashamed of ourselves. Be we shouldn't be, because we didn't do anything wrong. They did. Their choice made us victims... and that's okay. But at the same time as we're victims, we're also survivors. And that's because of _our_ choice. We chose to keep going, to fight even when it seemed like there was nothing to fight for. We survived them and everything they did. And we're going to keep surviving, because that's what we do," Jackson glanced down, and saw Derek looking up at him. "You and I are survivors, Derek. Don't forget that, okay?"

Derek nodded slowly. "I just... she gets to me..." He swallowed.

Jackson pressed his mouth to Derek's forehead. "I know, I get it," He said. "But remember that you're here with me, and that Kate Argent is dead," He raised his eyebrows. "She's dead and gone, and you're still here,"

"She's dead," Derek mumbled, laying back down against Jackson's chest. "But she's not gone,"


	11. A Day To Ourselves

"In the flush of love's light, we dare be brave.  
And suddenly we see that  
love costs all we are, and will ever be.  
Yet it is only love which sets us free."  
— _Touched By An Angel,_ Maya Angelou

When the alarm on Jackson's phone went off, he just turned it off and then lay back down on the bed. He and Derek had fallen asleep still fully clothed, which for them was a rare thing. They had spent much of the night talking, and Jackson wasn't entirely sure when they had stopped.

Typically, when they slept together, Jackson was the little spoon. As Derek was bigger than him, it seemed to be the natural fit, and was usually just how they wound up. But every now and then they would switch, because big and strong as he was, sometimes Derek needed to be held too.

Last night had been one of those times. Derek had fallen asleep lying against Jackson's chest, and Jackson had spent much of the night stroking his hair and holding him tightly, promising him that whatever was going on, it would all be okay. He tried to sound as certain as possible, tried to keep his heartbeat steady and unwavering as he said it. No matter what worries he himself had, he needed Derek to believe him.

Derek stirred slightly when Jackson moved to turn off his phone, but resumed his sound sleeping once Jackson laid back down with him. Jackson put his arms back around him, and looked down at the sleeping person in his arms. Derek's hair was a mess, sticking up all over the place and Jackson smoothed it down slightly with his hand. Derek buried his face into Jackson's chest, and Jackson felt his arms tighten around his waist.

Looking down at him, Jackson wondered how Derek thought he could ever leave him, even for a little while. How could he go away to school, and leave Derek behind in Beacon Hills? While he liked to think he'd moved on from _needing_ Derek the way he used to, moved on from the burning craving to see and touch and smell him that he used to feel whenever they were apart, the truth was that he had not entirely. Sure, the need had changed since the year before; it no longer drove him crazy to be apart from Derek, and no longer was Derek the only thing he could think of night and day. But he did still need him, he knew that. And Derek needed him back, just the same way.

They needed each other.

But even more than the need, Jackson _wanted_ Derek. He wanted to see him every day, wanted to talk to him and see his grumpy face. He wanted to be there to provoke smiles that no but Jackson could, wanted to hold him at night and be held back.

Jackson needed Derek, and he wanted him just as badly. And nothing, not school or the future or whatever the hell was coming, was going to make him give that up.

* * *

Stiles walked down the hall, mind madly running through all of the information he knew and trying to find some kind of explanation or pattern. Two days ago, a third body had been found; Taylor Patrickson, the wiccan. It was just like the others, and Stiles was forced to come to the obvious conclusion. One was incidence, two was coincidence, and three was a pattern. Along with the attempt on Jessy, the truth was undeniable. Someone was hunting supernatural beings. Aberrants.

Stiles added the facts up, and then added them again and once more came to the same conclusion: none of the facts added up.

He went through it all one more time.

_Fact one: two girls were killing people_

_Fact two: each of those people possessed supernatural abilities of some kind_

_Face three: one of murderers was a werewolf, and one was an oculus_

_Fact four: each victim was found with their brains removed, venom in their bloodstream, and two puncture wounds on their neck_

_Fact five: the two girls had somehow known Kate Argent_

He shook his head. None of it made any sense. What would a werewolf and an oculus need with someone's brain? What the hell was up with the snake bite? And finally, how the hell did Kate Argent fit into this? He may not have had an answer to that last question, but he knew that if Allison's crazy aunt had been involved in any way, things were not good.

Not good at all.

Maybe they were looking at it wrong. Or missing something. Stiles was almost sure of that, that there was some big important piece of the puzzle that was eluding them. Something that would tie everything together. He just needed to figure out what it was.

"Stiles!"

Stiles slowed his walk and turned around, hearing someone call his name. He walked back a few steps, and smiled.

"Hey, Jessy," he said.

The girl smiled at him, and tucked a piece of blond hair behind her ear.

The night they'd found her running from the girls, they'd taken her back to Deaton to get patched up. They'd found out that she was actually in school with them, in the year below. It made Stiles wonder how many other aberrants were going to school with them, that they had no idea about.

Jessy was standing at her locker, with two friends by her side. They stared at Stiles with slightly open mouths and wide eyes. Stiles looked around uncomfortably, wiping his cheek in case there was something on his face. "Stiles, this is Robin and Sandra. Guys, this is Stiles. He's the one who came to my rescue the other night," she glanced at Stiles with a raised eyebrow. "You know, when I was mugged."

"It was nothing," Stiles said. Not out of modesty; truly they'd done nothing but calm the girl down and give her some stinky tea to help her heal.

Robin and Sandra continued to say nothing. Robin leaned in to Jessy and whispered _"You never mentioned he was a_ senior _!"_

Jessy glared at her friend, shooting them both a look that very clearly said _"bitch, be cool!"_

"So, anyways, my parents are going to be out of town this weekend, and I figured since the last thing I want right now is to be all alone in my house, I decided to throw a party," Jessy said. "It won't just be juniors, because my cousin is getting us a keg and once word of the free beer gets out, lots of seniors will come,"

Stiles raised an eyebrow. "And you're telling me this to what, make me jealous about your awesome party?"

Jessy nodded soberly. "Yup, that's basically it." She said, shrugging.

Stiles smiled, and Jessy laughed. She punched him lightly on the arm. " _Obviously_ you're invited! It's Saturday night, and I've been telling people to come for nine, but people will just show up whenever so feel free to do the same. You can bring whoever you want, like Boyd and Scott and Isaac, or whoever else."

"Awesome," Stiles said. "I will see you Saturday night, then,"

Jessy smiled, and did the hair-tucked-behind-the-ear thing that Stiles decided was adorable. "See you then," she agreed.

Stiles turned and walked off down the hall. The moment he stepped away, a chorus of giggles erupted behind him.

_"Ohmygod he is so_ cute! _"_

_"I can't believe he's coming to your party-you're so freakin' lucky!"_

Stiles halted slightly, fighting the urge to turn around and get confirmation that they were actually talking about him. He forced himself to keep moving, and hoped to hell that his face hadn't turned bright red.

* * *

Derek awoke sometime shortly after ten, which was the latest Jackson thought Derek had ever slept in his life.

"Jackson?" Derek mumbled, as if he were surprised to find him there. "What time is it?"

"A little after ten," Jackson said.

Derek sat up, his brow creasing. "Jackson!" He said. "You're supposed to be in school!"

"I know, but I thought I'd take the day off, and we could spend it together," He replied. "I mean, we hardly ever get to spend the day together, just the two of us,"

"You shouldn't skip school. I mean, a class here and there is one thing, but not the whole day,"

Jackson sighed. "I didn't want to leave you," He admitted. Kate Argent, even dead and buried, had a way of effecting Derek. He knew what she'd done to him, and he knew from experience how easy it was for all of that to be brought up again, even by the smallest thing. Dr. Kaya called them "triggers," and Jackson was sure discovering there were killers walking around baring Kate's mark was a big one.

Derek scoffed and turned away. "I'm not some fragile thing that needs protecting," He muttered.

Jackson bit his lip, and decided against verbally disagreeing. Everyone needed to be protected sometimes, and with the right pressure even the strongest person was fragile. Derek was proof of that, but Jackson didn't feel it was the right time to say so. "Fine," He said. "I guess I'll go to school, then,"

Derek looked up sharply, eyebrows raised in surprise. He took a moment and composed himself. "Good," He said, not convincingly.

"I knew it, you want me to stay with you!"

Derek rolled his eyes. "I always want you to stay with me," He said, running his fingers through his hair. "But that doesn't mean I should get what I want,"

"Come on," Jackson said, moving closer to Derek on the bed. He put his hand on the side of Derek's face. "Maybe just this once, you should get what you want," He pressed a light kiss against Derek's mouth. He pulled back, and raised an eyebrow.

Derek's eyes slid down to Jackson's lips. "Maybe," He said. His eyes moved back to meet Jackson's. "But we can't make this a habit, alright?"

Jackson grinned, and leaned back to recapture Derek's lips. "For sure," He promised.

They kissed slowly for a while, almost lazily. They took their time removing each others clothes, drawing out the removal of each article, mouths roaming easily over exposed flesh. It had been a long time since they'd been able to be together like this, without fear of Isaac over-hearing from the next apartment over, and able to take as long as they wanted.

Jackson's mouth trailed down Derek's naked chest, sucking marks into his skin that instantly healed over. He made to move further down Derek's body, but Derek pulled him back up and kissed him.

"Lie back, Jackson," Derek murmured, biting lightly at Jackson's bottom lip. His hand drifted between Jackson's legs, and Jackson stuttered slightly.

Derek climbed off the bed and kneeled in front of Jackson, who made no move to lie back. Derek raised an eyebrow. "I said lie back," He repeated, his tone making it clear this was not a request.

"I like looking at you," Jackson said. "Please?" The way Derek looked kneeling in front of him was too good a sight to pass up. To be fair, a nude Derek doing anything was too good a sight to pass up. Sometimes when he looked at him, Jackson could not understand what he'd done right in his life to deserve someone so beautiful.

Derek smiled and spread Jackson's knees apart. "Alright," He allowed. He pressed a kiss to the inside of Jackson's knee. "You can watch,"

Jackson groaned, and grabbed fists full of blankets as Derek slowly kissed along the inside of his thigh. Before he pressed his mouth against him, Derek looked up at him and smirked slightly. Jackson bit down on his bottom lip as Derek's mouth ghosted over the head of dick, pre-cum dripping down his lips. An involuntarily whimper escaped Jackson's throat.

Finally he took Jackson into his mouth, moving up and down as his fist, slick with lubricant, slid along Jackson's shaft. Jackson's hands found their way into Derek's hair and he held him tightly, begging him not stop.

So of course, Derek did. He pulled back, ignoring Jackson's whines of protest. "Enjoying yourself, Jackson?" Derek asked. Jackson could only moan and whimper in response. "No, I want full words. Do you want me to keep going?"

Jackson nodded quickly, and tried to find his voice. "Yes, please, please keep going—" He pleaded.

Derek smirked. "What will you give me, if I do?"

"Anything," Jackson promised. "You know I'll give you anything you want, Derek please..."

"What I want," Derek began, resuming the movements of his hand on Jackson's cock. Jackson let out a sigh of relief, but still ached for Derek's mouth. "Is for you to come. More than once, until you're absolutely exhausted,"

Jackson nodded again. "Mmm, oh-kay,"

"And then," He continued, slowing the motion of his hand until Jackson began to squirm. "Once you're so worn out you couldn't possibly come again, I want to bed you over this bed and fuck you until you scream,"

It was approaching the evening by the time Jackson fell back onto the bed, completely exhausted and immensely satisfied. He was pretty sure he wasn't going to be able to move for the next week, but even if that proved true it would be totally worth it.

It wasn't just that it felt good to have Derek touch him. Of course it felt good, but it was more than that. It felt... right, some how. It was stupid, and an impossible to explain, but it was the way Jackson felt. Like what they were doing was more than just physical, more then just grinding bodies and searching mouths. It was special, somehow.

"How do you feel?" Derek asked, pulling Jackson into his arms. "Do you need anything?"

"Mmm, I feel great. I just need you," Jackson murmured, closing his eyes. After a moment, he opened them again. "And maybe that really soft blanket I like?" He asked. It _was_ a little chilly in the loft. At least it always seemed that way to him, afterwards.

Derek smiled, and pressed a light kiss against Jackson's mouth. "I'll grab it for you," He said, sliding out of bed. When he came back he wrapped the blanket over Jackson's shoulders. "Here, you should drink something, too," He said, handing him a glass of water.

Jackson nodded, and took a gulp of water. Derek nodded approvingly, and got back into bed with him, wrapping his arms over him once more. Derek kissed his forehead, and ruffled his hair. "You're amazing, you know that?" He asked.

"Yeah," Jackson said. "But I wouldn't mind hearing about it from you,"

Derek grinned. "I mean it, you're... you're too good to me. I don't deserve it,"

"Well, obviously I agree," Jackson said. "That's why I spend all of my time with you, and why I love you more than I used to think it was possible to love someone. I mean, clearly you're terrible, of course," Derek gave him a look, obviously not impressed by his sarcasm. "No, I'm serious. You're really awful. But so I am. And all those times people say things like 'god, you two are so awful, you deserve each other,' they're really talking about us. So you actually do deserve me,"

Derek raised an eyebrow. "Interesting logic," He said.

"Thank you," Jackson said. He stretched out his limbs, thinking that were probably okay to start using again. "Let's go watch something," He said, slowly climbing out of bed. He kept his blanket wrapped around him, and shuffled over to the couch.

"Game of Thrones?" Derek asked, following Jackson over to the couch. They resumed their cuddling once seated, and Derek picked up the remote. "I think there's a new season out that we haven't seen..."

Jackson made a face. "Nah, I've heard some things and I seriously don't like the direction it's going in," He said. "Besides, the books are way better in comparison,"

"You've never read the books," Derek pointed out.

"No, but Stiles has and he can usually be trusted when it comes to nerd things, so..."

"Wow, first Scott, now Stiles?" Derek said, amused. "Who are you going to agree with next?"

"For the record, yes I have matured to the point where I am comfortable agreeing with Scott and Stiles," Jackson said. "However, I am _not_ mature enough for Stiles to ever _know_ that I agreed with him, okay?"

Derek chuckled softly. "Okay, Jackson," He said. "Whatever you say,"


	12. Party Down

* * *

"Wow. I wasn't sure where the party was,  
and then I saw the flashing lights and the ambulance,  
and I was like 'right, of course! Death, carnage;  
it's a Buffy party!"  
—Buffy Summers, _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_

* * *

 

Saturday night rolled around, and at 9:30 Scott and Stiles headed to Jessy's party.

"You don't think we're too early, do you?" Stiles asked, turning the corner onto the street where she lived. "She said nine, but she also said to show up whenever."

"I think we're okay," Scott assured him. "Showing up exactly at nine would be too early, but ten seems like you don't care,"

"Right, exactly," Stiles agreed.

"You're fine, dude,"

The street was lined with cars, and Stiles slowed down, searching for a free space to park.

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, it's just... I don't want to mess this up. I mean, Jessy is cute, she's funny, and she knows about all this supernatural crap so I wouldn't have to lie to her, and she actually seems to like me. Which lets be honest, is pretty rare,"

"It's not that rare, you just don't pay enough attention to notice the people noticing you,"

Stiles furrowed his brow. "What? Who's been noticing me?"

Scott paused, thinking it over for a moment. "Remember last year, there was that transfer student, Elliot Rubenall? He _clearly_ had a massive crush on you, and you never even glanced at him,"

Stiles made a face. "Come on, I mean can you blame me?"

Scott shrugged.

"I don't mean to be the pot calling the kettle black, but he was..." Stiles paused. "Well he was kind of a dweeb. Not exactly my type..."

Scott shook his head. "What exactly _is_ your type?"

Stiles pursed his lips. He had of of course told Scott that he was bisexual, but they'd never actually talked about it in depth. Stiles was still getting comfortable with the whole thing. "I don't know... Hot?" He said. Scott laughed. "You've never gotten any, like a vibe or a scent from Danny, have you?" Scott shook his head. "Damn. Oh well, I bet Jackson poisoned him against me anyhow."

Finally locating a free spot, Stiles parked his jeep and he and Scott climbed out. They began the walk back to Jessy's house, all the way down at the other end of the street.

"Aw come on, Jackson's not like that... anymore..." Scott said. Stiles raised an eyebrow. "Well, not as much,"

"I agree he's mellowed out, but he's still Jackson. I seriously doubt he has anything good to say about me."

Scott opened his mouth, and then laughed. "He says he likes your freckles."

Stiles whipped his head around, looking for Jackson. "What the hell, you two got a psychic connection going on now?"

Scott shook his head, and nodded off towards the end of he street. He saw a few people standing several houses down from them. He assumed one of them was Jackson. "Damn werewolf hearing..." He muttered.

They walked down he street and met up with Jackson, Erica, Boyd and Isaac. "Where's Derek?" Scott asked.

"Back at the loft," Jackson said. "He didn't feel like coming to a high school party,"

"Right, well that makes sense," Stiles said. "Why would he want to spend all night with a bunch of teenagers?"

Erica made a noise that sort of resembled laughter. Stiles took that as a good sign, as the only things he used to be able to get out of Erica was death glares and unrelenting hatred. Boyd, however, looked slightly betrayed and Erica quickly wiped any trace of a smile off her face.

"We should knock," She said, heading over to the door. She raised her fist, but before she could knock the door opened, and a stream of people flooded out of the door. From the way they were laughing and falling on each other, Stiles guessed they were nicely smashed.

Scott smiled, watching them laugh and stumble down the street. "Guess she wasn't lying about free beer," he said.

After the stream of people ended, they made their way inside. The house was nicely sized, not huge but not small either. Whether or not it was well decorated Stiles couldn't tell, due to the throng of people along every wall and seated on every available surface.

"Stiles, you came!" Jessy called, squeezing her way through the crowd towards him.

"Jessy, hey," He greeted, smiling at her. She had clearly dressed up for the party and was in an extremely short dress with long black sleeves.

Jessy smiled back, then turned to greet Scott. "Hey, Scott," she said. "Isaac, Boyd. I'm so glad you all came."

"Thanks for the invite," Boyd replied, giving her a warm smile.

Erica and Jackson began clearing their throats loudly. Stiles rolled his eyes. "Jessy, this is Erica, Boyd's girlfriend, and Jackson."

Jessy smiled at them as well. "It's good to meet you guys," she said.

Jackson smiled back at her. "Nice turn out, huh?" He said. "Seems like the whole school came."

"Yeah," Jessy said, laughing nervously. "Honestly I wasn't expecting this many people..."

"Guess you're more popular than you thought, huh?" Stiles teased.

"Oh, totally," Jessy said. She turned to few people walking by and waved. "Hey guys, what's up?" She asked.

"Uh, nothing..." One of guys said, giving a look to his friend. The people walked away, and Stiles heard one of them say " _Who was that chick?"_

Jessy turned back and raised her eyebrows. " _So_ popular."

Stiles laughed, and Jessy tucked her hair behind her ear.

* * *

Boyd watched as Jessy dragged Stiles off through the crowd, apparently to "give him a tour." Next to him, Isaac shook his head. "I mean, I'm just saying, we all helped 'save' her just as much as Stiles did," he said. "So why is she all over him?"

"I know, Boyd is _so_ much sexier than Stiles," Erica said. "That girl has weird taste,"

Boyd felt his face heat up slightly, but he did his best not to let it show. "She could probably sense that I've devoted myself to another," he said, putting his arm over Erica's shoulder.

Erica grinned up at him. "Damn straight," She said, pulling him in for a kiss. It was hard and fast, and sent Boyd's heart racing. They were surrounded by their friends and countless strangers, but as always Erica kissed him like no one was watching.

When she pulled back she flashed him a grin that told him she knew exactly what kind of effect she had on him.

Isaac groaned. "Jesus Christ, get a room, my god," He said. Jackson nodded in agreement, and Isaac glared at him. "Quit nodding. You and Derek are even worse than them. You don't get to nod,"

"Wow, Isaac, that's really homophobic," Jackson said, crossing his arms. "Do you have a problem with me an Derek?"

"Yeah, Isaac, what's your problem?" Erica chimed in. "You think there's something wrong with two guys kissing? Do you?"

Isaac's mouth opened slightly in distress. He looked to Boyd for help. Boyd shrugged, fighting a smile. Scott laughed, and Isaac turned to him. "Scott, man, come on. You know I'm not homophobic!"

Scott shook his head. "I thought I knew you, man," He said, sounding disappointed. "I thought I knew you," He looked sadly off in the distance, as if contemplating Isaac's betrayal. After a moment he burst out laughing, and the rest of them joined in.

Isaac gritted his teeth. "You know what, all of you suck," He muttered. "I'm going to get beer," He turned and stalked off through the crowd.

Boyd chuckled, and watched Isaac walk away. "Think he forgot we can't get drunk?" He asked.

Jackson shook his head. "I doubt it. But either way, drinking is just something you do at a party," he said. There was a buzzing noise, and Jackson reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "Lydia says she and Allison are on their way," he informed them.

Scott raised his eyebrows. "Derek's really alright with you spending the evening with Lydia, while he's not around?"

"Of course, why wouldn't he be?" Jackson asked.

Scott shrugged. "I don't know, I mean you guys used to date and... somehow Derek strikes me as the jealous type,"

Jackson considers this. "He has his moments, but nothing huge. And besides, he knows I love him, and I've never given him a reason to be insecure about our relationship. Also, I did sort of leave Lydia _for_ him, so..." he shrugged.

"Not 'sort of,'" Erica pointed out. "That's literally what you did. After you cheated on her, with him."

Jackson glared. "Thanks, I remember."

Erica grinned. "You're welcome."

"Does anyone else ever think we should find Derek some friends?" Boyd asked. They all looked at him with raised eyebrows. "I mean other than us. Like, adult friends."

"Technically, I'm an adult," Jackson said. Everyone turned their stares from Boyd to him. "What? 18 means I'm legally an adult!"

Boyd rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. Actual adults, and someone other than you."

"Why?" Jackson pressed.

"Because..." Boyd floundered, unsure how to say what he wanted to say. "Look, you have a life and friends outside of him, right? All of us, Lydia, Allison, Danny... right?" Jackson nodded. "Well he doesn't have a life outside of you, does he? I mean, you're at a party, what's he doing right now?"

"He said he was going to do some research and stop by Landis Books to pick something up..." Jackson paused. "He's kind of friends with Landis."

"No, he's just his best customer," Erica replied. "But even if we're not adults, we're still Derek's friends. I mean, sort of."

Boyd shook his head. "It's different." He said. "Of course we're his friends, but it's just... it's different." Derek was pack, their alpha. The person who had brought them all together. He was their teacher and mentor, and Erica was right, he was their friend. But the way they were friends with him was different than the way they were friends with each other. It just was. "I just think it would be healthy, for him to have something else."

"You're wrong," Jackson snapped, eyes flashing blue.

"Jackson, I'm just saying—" Boyd started, slightly taken aback.

"No, I know what you're saying," He growled. "You're saying I'm not enough, that I can't give him what he needs. Well like I said, you're wrong. I _am_ what he needs. We have each other, and we don't need anyone else!"

"Jackson, you know that's not true," Scott said.

"Yeah, calm the hell down," Erica demanded. "Boyd's just trying to help,"

"Well thanks, but no thanks," Jackson said, turning on his heel and storming off.

"Jackson, come on—" Boyd called after him, but Jackson didn't stop. He stared after him glumly. "Great, he hates me," He mumbled. He should have kept his mouth shut, and his opinions to himself. Why did he think Jackson would care what he had to say anyways?

"Hey, don't sweat it, Vernie," Erica said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "He's just being Jackson. He'll calm down and you guys will be cool,"

Boyd nodded, knowing that she was most likely right but not feeling better anyways.

"Hey, you know what they say," Scott said. "It's not a real party until a fight breaks out,"

"I think they mean a fist fight," Erica replied.

Boyd smiled sadly. "Well, it's early. Jackson could still come back and clock me,"

* * *

The hallway was lined with family photos. There was an even mix between the posed kind taken at studios, and ones that looked like they were taken on various vacations and at family functions. Stiles stopped and looked at one that featured Jessy as a chubby six year old, covered in mud and smiling very proudly at the camera as her parents looked on with expressions that seemed a mixture between amused and also very tired. He smiled, and wondered what the story was behind it.

"So, this is the hallway," Jessy said, gesturing around. "Features include embarrassing family photos, the door to the washroom, and a really ugly rug that my grandmother bought for us when we moved in,"

Stiles nodded, looking at the rug under his feet, which looked sort of looked like various other rugs had been frankensteined together to make it. "That's too bad," He said. "Your grandmother must really hate you guys,"

Jessy laughed. "Yeah, she really must," She said. Shaking her head, Jessy led him further down the hallway, to a door on the left. "And this is my room,"

"Oh," Stiles said, walking in. "It's... nice." The walls were covered in a dark blue wallpaper that featured rocket ships and stars. It didn't at all match the furniture, which was a matching set of a sleek dark wood dresser, armoire and sleigh bed. There were a few movie posters tacked up, one for a movie Stiles had never heard of called _The Chumscrubber,_ and another for the original _Hairspray._

Jessy laughed again. "I know, the wallpaper was not my choice. It was up when we moved in. I think the previous owner was a seven year old boy. My Dad keeps saying he'll get to changing it but..." She shrugged.

"When did you move in?" Stiles asked.

"Little over a year ago," Jessy replied.

"Ah."

"Yeah," Jessy said, nodding. "Well, that's the whole house... except the basement, but that has hella mould in it right now, so maybe we'll hold off on that part of the tour until my Dad deals with it... which should be right around the same time he changes my wallpaper..."

Stiles grinned. "I don't know, I kind of like the wallpaper," he said. "It's got character."

Jessy nodded, surveying her room. "Yeah, me too," she said. She stepped closer to him. "So... how's the party so far?" She asked, looking up at him.

"Uh, good," Stiles said, swallowing. She was close enough to smell her perfume. He didn't know what it smelt like, but it was nice. "It's good."

She smiled up at him, and Stiles smiled back, feeling slightly frozen. He was pretty sure he was supposed to kiss her now—and he wanted to, a lot—but for some reason he couldn't seem to make himself move. How did this even work? He was just supposed to lean in and press his mouth against hers? It was that simple?

It wasn't that Stiles had never kissed anyone before, he had—not a lot, but it had happened—but it had always been initiated by them. And mostly it had been during truth or dare. This was different.

Jessy raised an eyebrow. "Uh, Stiles?"

"Yeah?"

"Just so you know, this is me waiting for you to kiss me," she said.

Stiles nodded. "Good to know..." he mumbled. What the hell was his problem? He should just do it already. _Go on,_ he urged himself. _Freaking do it!_

Jessy grinned. "Sorry, but a girl can't wait forever," she said, putting a hand on the back of his head and pulling him in for a kiss. Stiles' heart leapt in his chest, and he felt himself relax into the kiss. He put his hands on her hips and kissed her deeply, feeling incredibly grateful that she'd stepped up.

Together they stumbled backwards towards her bed, falling back with Stiles lying under her as they continued to kiss. He ran his fingers up through her hair, holding her tightly as the kiss grew more intense.

A clenching feeling sprouted in Stiles' stomach as he realized he was getting hard, and that in her position on top of him, Jessy was definitely going to be able to notice. He didn't want to stop kissing her, but he also didn't want to freak her out. "Jessy, uh, maybe... maybe we should stop..." He muttered. He tried to think of something unpleasant, something other than Jessy's soft lips or the way kissing her made him feel like he'd discovered something that he'd been missing his whole life.

"We don't have to," Jessy whispered, tucking her hair back. "I have condoms in my drawer, if you want to..."

Stiles raised his eyebrows, surprised. "Uh... uh.. yeah, no, I want to," He said, barely processing what was happening. Last month it seemed impossible that he'd ever find someone to even kiss, let alone have sex with. "I definitely want to."

She smiled, and reached for her bedside table, pulling out a condom in a blue wrapper. "I just..." Stiles began. "Are you sure?" Jessy was younger than him, and while it was only by less than a year he didn't want her to do something she'd regret, no matter how badly he wanted to not be a virgin.

Jessy furrowed her brow. "Stiles, this isn't my first time," she said. "Don't worry."

"Oh..." Stiles said, somewhat surprised. "That's... oh..."

The crease between her brow deepened."Is it yours...?"

"No, it's not, not my first... yes, yeah it is,"

"Oh," Jessy said, smiling slightly. The smile faded quickly. "Oh my god, you must think I'm such a huge slut!" She said, sliding off of him. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, I just assumed..."

"Hey, no! Don't worry, I don't—you're not—" Stiles sat up and put a hand on her shoulder. "I mean, slut is kind of an archaic term anyways, right?"

"I swear, I've only done it like twice," Jessy said. "I just went through this stupid rebellious phase, because my parents are so strict, and I was stupid, and it shouldn't even count because Mark was just using me..." Jessy looked up, frightened. "Forget I said that."

Stiles frowned. "Who was using you?" He asked.

Jessy looked away. "It's... it was before we moved here. It's kind of... why we moved here," She said quietly. "Mark was this guy at my school, and I thought he liked me, and my parents were always so worried and controlling," she shook her head. "It was so stupid. I slept with him, and he tried to kill me and my parents. He was a hunter... he was only being nice to me to get into my home. And when our guard was down and we trusted him..." Jessy put her face in her hands. "My Mom never healed properly. Her leg is still all messed up, and it's all my fault."

"Hey, it is _not_ your fault," Stiles said. "That guy was scum, and you didn't do anything wrong, okay?"

Jessy didn't look like she believed him. "That's what my parents said, but they're wrong. I was stupid, and naive and I put everyone in danger. They try _so hard_ to keep us safe..." She wiped her eyes. "That's why I didn't tell them about the other night, when those girls attacked me. They would just freak out and worry and..." She looked up at him. "You're going to catch them, right?" She asked. "That's what you guys do? You and Scott and everyone?"

"Yeah, that's what we do," Stiles said. "And I promise, I won't let anyone hurt you," he said.

Through her tears, Jessy smiled at him, and the sight almost broke Stiles' heart. No matter what it took, he was going to keep that promise. He was going to find those girls, and when he did, he was going to kill them.

"Thank you, Stiles," Jessy whispered. She leaned in and kissed them, and together they lay back on the bed.

* * *

Isaac stared down at the red plastic cup in his hand. "I almost never drank, before," He said mournfully. "I mean I never went to parties and I didn't have any friends, and my Dad never kept any alcohol around..."

"And now you've missed your chance forever?" Boyd said. Like Isaac, he'd also never been much of a drinker. However, he didn't think they were worse off because alcohol couldn't affect them. Teenagers tended to do stupid things, even without alcohol to help them. While it didn't seem like it to Isaac, not being able to get drunk was likely a blessing in disguise. He decided not to say so.

"Just think of all the benefits that come from not being affected by alcohol," Lydia offered. She and Allison had arrived a little while ago. Allison was off with Scott, trying to talk to Jackson, who was somewhere sulking.

"Like what?" Isaac asked, sounding skeptical.

"Well, alcohol alters the brain's chemistry and increases the risk of depression and anxiety," Lydia explained. "Drinking heavily over a long period of time can also have long-term effects on memory. As a werewolf, you'll never have to deal with any of that. Not to mention, alcohol can severely affect your libido and sexual performance."

Isaac frowned. "But I mean, what else am I going to do with my youth if I can't get drunk?" He asked.

Boyd shrugged. "Learn a new language, take up piano? Apply yourself?" He suggested. Isaac made a face. "Make some straight edge friends then."

"What's straight edge?"

"Straight edge is a subculture of people who refrain from the use of recreational drugs, alcohol and tobacco." Lydia informed them.

Isaac raised his eyebrow. "Is there anything you _don't_ know?" He asked.

Lydia shrugged, and sipped her drink. "Not really," she said.

"I have a theory," Erica said, draining her cup, and then wiping her mouth on her sleeve. "No one likes the taste of beer, they just think they do because they're too drunk to notice it tastes like shit," She said. Boyd smiled. Erica scrunched up her nose. "Damn it, I have to pee,"

Boyd raised an eyebrow. "Damn it?"

"Bathroom lines at parties are always like 50 feet long," She said, looking irritated. "Whatever. I'll be back in an hour," She said. She gave Boyd a quick kiss and handed her empty cup to Isaac. "Come on, Lydia."

Lydia handed Isaac her cup as well, and the two walked off.

Boyd felt his phone buzz in his pocket, and he pulled it out and saw he had a text from an unrecognized number. It read _"Hey Boyd, it's Jessy! I want to talk to you, could you meet me in the backyard? It's important."_

"Who's that from?" Isaac asked, leaning over to read it.

"It's from Jessy," Boyd said. "She wants to talk,"

Isaac shook his head. "She wants to bang Stiles, have important talks with you... what the hell are me and Scott? Chopped liver?"

Boyd opened his mouth, and then closed it again. "Chopped liver...?"

Isaac looked away. "It's an expression."

"I have literally never heard anyone say that before," Boyd said. "Ever."

Isaac scowled. "Well, they say it."

Boyd chuckled. "Right, sure they do," he said, patting him on the shoulder. "I'm going to go see what Jessy wants, I'll be back soon."

Isaac nodded. "I'll be here, testing my theory that if I can give myself alcohol poisoning, I'll be able to feel a little drunk before I die."

"Sounds good," Boyd said. He weaved his way through the other party guests, making his way to the back of the house. In the kitchen, several kids were passing around a large pink bong, taking hits and then passing it off. A girl with long red hair held it out to him. "Hey, want some?" She offered. "This stuff is really pure,"

Boyd paused, looking at the bong. He had never been offered drugs before (unlike what he was taught in middle school, highschool was not populated with evil figures in trench coats pressuring him to smoke up every time he turned a corner, to whom the only proper reply was to _just say no_ ). "Um, thanks but I'm good," he said. The girl shrugged, and took a hit herself.

Stepping outside, Boyd shivered slightly. The air had gotten a bit chilly since they'd gone inside. He looked up, and saw a bright crescent moon. It would be a little while before the next full moon. Boyd heard a noise behind him, and made to turn around to greet Jessy. Before he could, something sharp pierced his neck. In an instant, his entire body seized up and he crumpled to the ground. Panic flooded his veins and at the same time his head began to feel foggy. Darkness swam in front of his vision, but he struggled to stay awake. He had... he had to stay awake. The others... he had to warn them.

Distantly, he heard a girls voice. She was shouting at someone, shouting that they needed to get away from him. He tried to open his eyes, to see who it was... but blackness engulfed him, and he slipped away.

* * *

"I know that Boyd didn't mean anything, I just..." Jackson shook his head. He felt stupid for storming off like he had, but he couldn't shake the slightly ill feeling in his chest. Boyd's words had hurt him, whether or not he'd meant to. "I know, I'm being stupid."

"Not stupid..." Scott said, putting a hand on his back. "Just sort of defensive."

"Well, a lot defensive." Allison added. "But it's understandable. We know you just want Derek to be happy, and you guys have been through a lot."

Jackson shook his head. "I know, it's just... it's more than that. I mean, it's about Derek, but I think the reason I got so upset was because... it made me feel like I wasn't enough." Jackson hung his head slightly, feeling even more like a moron. "I'm such a friggin' tool. Boyd must hate me."

"Nah, I'm sure Boyd understands." Scott said. "You guys'll be cool."

"I have to find him and apologize," Jackson said, standing up. "I didn't have any right to snap at him like I did."

"I think I saw him head into the kitchen a while ago," Allison said. "Try checking there."

Jackson nodded. "I will. You guys go join the others. Thanks for listening to me whine." He said. He made his way to the kitchen, trying to pick up Boyd's scent as he went. It was difficult to separate any one scent from the mass of smells at the party, particularly the overwhelming stench of weed coming from the kitchen. A group of kids were sitting around the table, passing around a pink bong. He didn't see Boyd. "Hey, did any of you guys see a kid named Boyd come through here?"

A red headed girl blew out a stream of smoke, and raised a pierced eyebrow at him. "Dunno, what's he look like?"

"Uh, he's tall, bald... black..."

The girl nodded. "Oh yeah, he was just here like, I dunno, ten minutes ago? I offered him some jane, but turned me down. Shame, he was a real looker. Anyways, he went outside," She said, gesturing to the back door.

"Thanks," Jackson said, moving to the door. He pulled it open and stepped into the chilly air. For a moment, he thought the yard was empty. Then he spotted him, crumpled at the bottom of the steps. The scent of blood hit him, and Jackson rushed over to him. "Boyd?! Hey, Boyd, wake up!" He pulled Boyd into his lap, relieved to hear his heart beating. "Shit, shit... what the hell did this to you?" He put his hand on Boyd's head, and it came away bloody. He wasn't healing. "Shit, _shit._ " He looked around, trying to think. He needed help, he needed to call someone. Where the hell had he put his phone? Had he left it inside? "Don't worry, Boyd, I'm not going to leave you..."

Jackson gritted his teeth, and raised his head to the crescent moon. He opened his mouth and howled, as loudly as he could. He knew that everyone inside would hear him, but he hoped that somehow, Derek would too.

Scott was first outside. "What happened?" He asked, rushing over.

"I don't know, I just found him like this," Jackson said. Allison, Erica, Lydia and Isaac hurried into the yard as well.

"It must have been those girls," Lydia said, examining him. "Look at his neck, he has two marks just like the other victims. He's paralyzed."

"He's not healing," Erica said. Jackson could smell the panic coming off of her. "We need... we need to break his arm, to trigger the healing process." She grabbed Boyd's arm and held it. Jackson saw her grit her teeth. She couldn't do it.

"Erica..." He said, taking Boyd's arm from her. "Let me." He broke Boyd's arm quickly, and Erica winced violently. Boyd didn't move.

"Those girls were here, maybe they're still around," Allison said, scanning the area. "You guys take Boyd back to Derek's, Scott and Stiles and I will search the area." She said. She frowned. "Where is Stiles?"

"Here, I'm here!" Stiles called, rushing outside as he hurried to button up his shirt. Jessy was right behind him. Both looked dishevelled. "What happened, is Boyd alright?"

Scott stared at him. "We don't know, we need to get him to Derek." He raised an eyebrow. "What were you two doing?"

"Uh, not really important right now," Stiles said, running his fingers through his messy hair. "I mean, we didn't do anything—I mean we were about to—but we heard someone howl and..."

"Can everybody shut the hell up right now?" Erica snapped. "We need to get Boyd into Jackson's car." She turned to Jackson. "Jackson, go bring the car around. Isaac and I will carry Boyd out and then we'll go to Derek's. He'll know what to do."

* * *

They brought Boyd to Derek's loft. Derek, having heard Jackson's howl, had already been on his way to Jessy's. Jackson had found his phone inside and spoken to him, told him to turn around and that they would come to him. Derek met them downstairs and carried Boyd up to his apartment.

Derek had administered some herbs to Boyd, and had fennel tea standing by for when he woke up. They called Deaton for advice, but he only told them that Derek had done what was necessary. He would come over if they wanted, but he didn't think there was anything else he could do. Derek thanked him, and said he would call if anything changed.

They kept Boyd in Derek's bed, and Erica waited next to him. Jackson tried to talk to her a few times, but she just watched Boyd with a solid, stony face.

Around three in the morning, Allison called. She, Stiles and Scott and hard searched the area, but found no sign of the girls who had hurt Boyd. She asked how he was doing, and Jackson told her there was no change yet.

At four, Boyd began to shift around slightly. For a few minutes they thought he was waking up, but he remained asleep. Still, Derek said it meant the paralysis was wearing off, and that was a good thing. "So he should wake up soon, right?" Jackson asked, sitting on the side of the bed.

"Hopefully," Derek said, rubbing his back.

Erica wiped at her face. After a moment, Jackson realized she was crying. "Hey, it's gonna be alright," Jackson said. "He'll wake up soon."

"I know, I know..." Erica said, not looking like she knew at all. "I just..." She shook her head. "I can't lose him." She put her head in her hands. Jackson went over to her, uncertain about what to say. He'd never really seen Erica like this before. He sat down next to her and put an arm over her shoulder, and she leaned against him. Isaac came over from the couch, and sat down on Erica's other side. They didn't say anything, but Jackson knew that sometimes just being there for someone was enough.

Sometime past dawn, just as Jackson was starting to think staying awake for another minute would be impossible, Boyd made a noise. "Errr..." He groaned.

Jackson blinked, and then shook Erica and Isaac. "Guys, I think he's waking up."

Erica grabbed Boyd's hand. "Boyd, are you alright? Can you hear me?"

Boyd's brow furrowed and he seemed be struggling. "Er...ka..."

Erica's eyes went wide. "I'm here, Boyd." She said, tears welling back up in her eyes. "I'm here."

Boyd's eyelids fluttered, and then slowly opened. "Erica?" He asked, clearly this time. "Wha... what happened? Where... the party?"

"We don't know what happened," Erica said, wiping at her tears again. "We just found you like this and brought you back here."

"Here, drink this," Derek said, bringing over the tea. "It'll help."

"Give it to me," Erica said, snatching it from Derek's hands. She held it to Boyd's lips and he took a sip and grimaced. Jackson knew from experience that it tasted pretty bitter. "Just take it easy, alright?" She said, speaking in a soothing voice Jackson wouldn't have thought possible. "You're gonna be okay..."

Jackson saw her shoulder's shaking, and thought of offering to take over for her. But he knew that if it were Derek, he wouldn't let anyone else near him.

After drinking his tea, Boyd dozed off again. But even Jackson could tell that this was a different, healthier sleep. His scent had improved dramatically, and his breathing was no longer shallow and laboured.

"Get some sleep," Derek said. "All of you."

"Will do," Isaac mumbled, slinking off to the couch. "Night..."

"Yeah, maybe just for a moment..." Jackson muttered, lying down next to Boyd. Erica pulled her chair closer to the bed, and stubbornly crossed his arms. "Don't worry, Erica, I'll sleep for... both of... us..."

Jackson wasn't sure for how long he slept, but it didn't feel like a very long time. He felt something warm pressed against his chest. For a moment, he thought he was holding Derek, but the weight and scent were all wrong.

Jackson opened his eyes, and found Erica asleep against his chest. She was snoring softly, and her blonde hair was in her face.

"She's beautiful when she's asleep, isn't she?"

Jackson glanced to his other side, and saw Boyd was awake and watching them. "Uh, this isn't what it looks like?" He said.

Boyd laughed quietly. "Don't worry, it's cool."

"How are you feeling?" Jackson asked.

Boyd shrugged a shoulder. "Not great..." He said.

"Boyd, what happened?"

Boyd looked up at the ceiling. "I don't know," he admitted. "I got a text from Jessy, saying she wanted to talk to me, but when I went outside, she wasn't there."

Jackson nodded. "I know, Isaac told us. Jessy said she didn't send you anything, she was busy almost having sex with Stiles."

Boyd crinkled his nose. "Uh, you could have left that part out."

"They didn't. If I have to hear it, you do."

"Thanks."

"So you didn't see who attacked you?" Jackson asked.

Boyd shook his head. "No... I just felt something painful pierce my neck, and then I blacked out. Although..." He frowned. "I thought I heard someone, right before I passed out. A girl."

"One of the girls who attacked you?"

"I... I don't think so," Boyd said. "I think she was trying to help me."

"Oh," Jackson said. "Weird."

"Yeah."

"ramen...no, I can't... the noodles... " Erica mumbled in her sleep. "Stop... ramen...ra.. ugh..."

Jackson raised an eyebrow. "She's dreaming about ramen?" He asked.

Boyd shrugged a shoulder. "It happens. She hates ramen."

"Right..." Jackson said. He frowned. "Boyd, about what happened last night..."

"I know, I'm sorry," Boyd said. "I should have kept my mouth shut, it was none of my business."

"No, I never should have gone off on your like that," Jackson said. "It was a dick move."

"Still, I shouldn't—"

"But I didn't mean to—"

"Oh my god, you two are such babies," Erica muttered, eyes still closed. "Just kiss and make up already."

Jackson smiled at Boyd, and he smiled back. "Are we cool?" He asked.

Boyd nodded. "Yeah," He said. "We're cool."


	13. Family Dinner

* * *

There is no such thing as a "broken family."  
Family is family, and is not determined by  
marriage certificates, divorce papers, and adoption documents.  
Families are made in the heart.  
The only time family becomes null is when those ties in the heart are cut.  
If you cut those ties, those people are not your family.  
If you make those ties, those people are your family.  
― C. JoyBell C.

* * *

 

The kitchen air was heavy with steam and the smell of cooking food. Derek stood at the counter with Jackson's mother, Jessica, peeling potatoes. "It's not that I don't think UCBH is a good school," Derek said, setting another peeled potato into the pot. "I've looked into it, and it is."

Jessica nodded. "I was talking to Melissa McCall at the last PTA meeting, and she says Scott is strongly considering it. They've got a joint veterinary program with one of the local colleges, and it's supposed to be one of the best."

Derek raised his eyebrows, and pointed his peeler at her. "See, that's _exactly_ my point. Scott is strongly _considering_ it. Because he's also _considering_ other schools. I know he's looking at a few, and he's going to consider _all_ of his options and then make the choice he thinks is best. But Jackson isn't doing that!" He said. Jessica nodded sympathetically. "He just picked UCBH out of a hat, and won't even look at anything else."

Jessica make a face as she carried the finished potatoes over to the stove, and set them to boil. "I don't think he picked it out of a hat..." she said quietly.

Derek sighed. She was right, of course. The choice was in no way random. "I know... I've tried to talk to him, but..."

"He doesn't listen," she said knowingly. "Once Jackson's made up his mind, there's no talking him out of it."

From the other room, where Jackson was watching some sport with his father, he heard him say "You know I can hear everything you're saying, right?"

Derek crossed his arms over his chest. "Good, now maybe try actually listening for once!" He snapped.

Jessica furrowed her brow. "What?"

"Sorry," Derek said. "I was talking talking to Jackson. He says he can hear us." He explained.

"Ah," Jessica said, nodding. "Right. Werewolf hearing. Got it."

* * *

In the living room, Jackson shook his head. "He's ridiculous," he muttered.

David Whittemore raised his eyebrows. "He cares about you, Jackson," he said. "We all do."

Jackson rolled his eyes, and turned back to the game. The team he'd chosen to support was losing horribly, and he was seriously considering switching his allegiance. "I get that," he said. "But I'm fine. He's worrying for nothing,"

Jackson was getting seriously sick of having this conversation. His parents, Derek and Dr. Kaya had all made it clear to him that they thought he was screwing up his future. Wasting his potential. None of them understood. He had a duty to his town, to the people who lived in it. A responsibility. He'd spent so long hurting people, putting himself first and disregarding everyone else. It had been a toxic way to live, and in the end it had turned him into something even worse than a bully. It had made him an abomination. The kanima, Matt's instrument of death. Innocent's had died at his hands, and whether or not he'd been in control did not change that fact.

While Jackson understood that he was not at fault for those deaths—not at fault for _anything_ Matt had done—he still took responsibility for them. And he had sworn to change. To protect people where he had once only hurt, to put others first instead of himself.

And now everyone wanted him to go back on that. To think of what was best for _him,_ and ignore the town that needed him.

Well, he wouldn't. People here needed him, he knew that. And of course, there was Derek...

"Jackson, it's not nothing," his father said. "It's your future, your life. That's not _nothing._ "

"You know that's not what I meant—"

"Do I?" David asked. "You used to want so much from life, Jackson. You always had to have the best, from everything. Nothing else was good enough for you." He put his hand on Jackson's shoulder. "What happened to that guy, huh? What happened to my son, who always had to have the best?"

Jackson looked towards the kitchen, where he could see Derek chopping vegetables with his mother. He turned back to his Dad. "Maybe he just realized he already had it."

* * *

For dinner Saturday night, they brought in food from a Mediterranean place that was close to their apartment. It was only the second time Allison had eaten dinner together with Catherine and her father. For the past few weeks she had stayed almost entirely at Lydia's house, either eating there with her family or going out with Lydia. But Chris had requested she come home for dinner, at least for one night. While Lydia was invited, she'd opted to stay so Allison could have "family time." Personally, Allison thought that was an excuse, so that Lydia could have some time alone to draw.

"So, Allison," Catherine said as she smeared hummus on a piece of pita bread. "How's school been? Excited to be finally finishing?"

Allison smiled. "Well, we still have over half the year left so I'm not done quite yet," she said.

"Still, it's your last year! Any idea what you'll be doing next year?" Catherine pressed.

Allison used her fork to turn over a tomato in her salad, considering the question. "I have been looking at a few schools abroad," she said. "But honestly I'm not sure what I want to do, so it's hard to say where to go."

"But you plan on going somewhere far?"

"It's traditional, as part of a hunters training that they travel, if they can," Chris injected. "There's a lot to see in the world." He looked down at his plate. "Kate couldn't wait to get away... see the world..."

Allison chewed on the inside of her cheek. It was rare for her father to mention her aunt. He usually preferred to avoid the subject. Allison understood why. Thinking of Kate was... upsetting. And even years later, Allison's feelings were still confused. Loss mingled with anger, grief mixed with hostility.

"If it's travel you want, I have a suggestion," Catherine said.

Chris looked up, and a look of warning crossed his face. "Catherine..."

"What? She should know she has the option." Catherine said.

Allison raised an eyebrow. "The option to...?"

"Come with us," Catherine said, leaning in slightly. "Finish you're training with us, and then join our group. We're based in Naples, but we travel all over. You'd get to see the world, and doing what you know you love to do,"

"She's going to go to school," Chris said. "Learn a trade, pick a career."

" _Hunting_ is a career. What she does on the side is just a means to an end," Catherine replied. "Just let her think about it, alright?" She asked. She turned to Allison. "Just put it on your list of options. If you'd prefer to do things your fathers way, no harm done."

Allison nodded slowly, playing around with her salad. Catherine's offer held a lot of appeal. She'd be able to leave Beacon Hills, see the world and do what she was good at. What was the down side?

There was the sound of an alarm, and Allison looked up sharply, before remembering that was just one of Catherine's ring tones. She had personalized tones for everyone in her group, so she could know whether she wanted to answer without glancing at the phone. "Sorry," Catherine said, digging the phone out of her pocket. "If Amy is calling it must be important, she was looking into something..."

"Hello?" Catherine said, answering her phone. "Did you find—" Catherine frowned. "No one, really? Well then you'll just have to talk to—" She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I know, you said that already. And I believe _I_ already told you that was stupid!" She sighed. "Look, I'm having dinner with my family, can we talk about this later? Alright, bye."

"Sorry about that," Catherine said, putting her phone away. "I thought she might have found something but..." She shrugged. "Zilch."

"What is she looking for?" Allison asked.

Catherine bit her lip. "Well... I guess you two should know, although we haven't found anything concrete yet," She said. "We came back into town looking for two girls, one of whom is a werewolf. Last week, we heard a wolf howling in the middle of the night."

A pit opened in Allison's stomach, but she tried not to let it show. That was Jackson. They'd heard Jackson. "So you think that was who you're looking for?" She asked.

Catherine shook her head. "See, wolves howl to signal their location to the rest of the pack. Now the girl we're looking for, the only pack she has to speak of is _l'occhio—_ sorry, that's what Viola calls them. _l'occhio_ means _the eye._ The other is _il lupo, the wolf._ So if all _il lupo_ has is _l'occhio,_ they wouldn't bother to howl."

Allison forced to self to sit still, to not squirm or show that she was nervous. She took slow breaths and stayed calm and steady. She would not panic.

"Now, we figure it's one of two situations," Catherine continued, grabbing a kebab from the plate and pulling off pieces of beef. "Either way, it's clear that _il lupo_ is _not_ the only werewolf here, like we thought. She either has some pack here, and maybe that's why they came back, or there's another pack living in Beacon Hills." Catherine rolled the pieces of beef up in her pita, and took a bite. She chewed for a moment, swallowed, and resumed talking. "Personally, I think it's one of the Hale's. Beacon Hills was their territory for years, the odds of another pack showing up seem slim."

"All of the Hale's are dead," Allison's father said quietly. "I told you that."

Catherine nodded, taking another bite of her food. "I know, I know. Laura was killed by Peter, Peter was killed by Derek, and then Derek and the other beta were killed by the kanima. Yes, you told me."

Allison looked at her father. Were these the lies her father had told to keep the hunters away from Beacon Hills all this time? That Derek, Peter and Scott were all dead? She figured it made sense, that he would have had to be lying to them, but she'd never really thought about it before. What would they do to him, if they discovered the truth? Allison wasn't sure, but she hoped she'd never find out.

"...But maybe one of them survived somehow." Catherine was saying. "Or maybe there were more Hale's that weren't killed in the fire, who knows?"

Chris shook his head. "I don't think so. If there is a wolf, other than the one you're looking for, I doubt it's a Hale. I think we've seen the last of that line."

Catherine shrugged. "Maybe. But there's no point sitting around debating it all day. What we need is proof." She shook her head. "And that is proving itself _seriously_ difficult to find."

"What kind of proof are you looking for?" Allison asked.

"Witnesses," Catherine said. "See, the night we heard the wolf, we managed to figure out about what area it came from. And on that street, there was a big party going on. We think the wolf was at the party, and we're trying to track down the kids that were there, to see if they say anything or know anything. By the time we got to the party, everyone was mostly gone. There was only one kid left, and they won't talk to her because she was kind of majorly stoned. We _would_ talk to the kid who threw the party, but we can't find them. They didn't seem to to be home, and we can't track them down."

Allison nodded. At least Jessy was safe. Allison could only assume that whatever her parents had taught her to avoid hunters was helping her stay off their radar. "What does her being stoned have to to do with it?" She asked.

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Freaking nothing! I mean, if she'd been dropping acid that night I could understand why they'd discount her, but it was just weed, right? She could still have seen something. They're being ridiculous, counting her out. I'll probably just have to talk to the girl myself..."

"Or I could do it," Allison volunteered. "She might be more willing to talk to me instead of an adult, especially if she'd been doing drugs at the party. I'll find out what she knows."

"Yeah? That'd be great, thank you Allison," Catherine said, giving her a wide smile. "You're a great kid, you know that?"

Allison shrugged, feeling slightly guilty. "What's the girls name?" She asked.

"Jaina Fisher," Catherine said. "She's got bright red hair, hard to miss."

Allison nodded. "I'll track her down."

* * *

Jackson cut into his steak, listening to Derek talk about a new rare book he'd discovered at Landis Books. Usually he liked watching Derek nerd out about lame things like rare books and manuscripts, or some new piece of supernatural history he'd just learned. But for some reason it was rubbing him the wrong way now.

"It's from somewhere in the middle ages, and it's written entirely in Relupi," Derek explained. "It's extremely delicate, and practically priceless..."

Jackson's mother raised an eyebrow. "Relupi?" She asked.

"Its the lost werewolf language," Jackson explained. Derek had told him about the language a while ago. Apparently his father had been a linguist, who focused on the study of lost supernatural languages. Relupi had been his favourite, because almost no one could translate it, or understand it. Relupi had been the tongue of the Relupe people, a massive community of werewolves in the middle ages. "Which means he spent a fortune on a book that he can not only _not_ read, but also can't really touch, either."

"It was worth it," Derek insisted.

"Do you know anyone who could translate it for you?" Jackson's father asked, taking a sip of wine. Jackson could practically see it on his face that he didn't understand why Derek thought he'd made a good purchase.

Derek hesitated. "Not at the moment..." He admitted. "According to the mythology, only someone of Relupi descent would be able to read it... but almost all of them were killed by hunters, so their descendants are few and far between."

David raised his eyebrows. "Sounds like a good investment."

Jackson glared at his father, and opened his mouth to defend his boyfriend. Just because he kind of agreed with him didn't give him the right to be an ass.

"And what about that time share you purchased a few years ago, that you said we'd get _so_ much use out of, that we haven't been to once?" Jessica said, beating Jackson to the punch. "You said _that_ was a good investment, but as far as I can tell it's just draining our money."

"Yeah, Dad," Jackson added. "Or that time you bought that boat, which's been sitting in storage almost my whole life?"

David Whittemore pursed his lips. "One day we will use both those things," He said. Jackson continued to glare, and his Dad sighed. "Alright, you two have a point. Derek, I apologize."

Derek nodded. "The book _was_ a good purchase though,"

Jackson put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure it was."

* * *

After dinner and dessert had been cleaned up, Derek and Jackson sat out in Jackson's backyard, looking up at the stars. It would be a full moon soon, and Jackson could already feel the tingling in his fingers.

He looked over at Derek, and thought he knew why he'd felt so strange at dinner. It was Boyd's words coming back to him. _Don't you think it would be better if Derek had a friend?_

Maybe Boyd had been right. Maybe it would be better if Derek had someone else, someone who had similar interests, like weird manuscripts and supernatural lore. Of course he was free to talk to Jackson about all of that stuff, and Jackson was happy to listen and ask questions, but the truth was he didn't really understand, and he likely never would.

"Derek..." He began. "Do you ever feel like something is missing, from your life?"

Derek raised an eyebrow. "In what way?"

Jackson hesitated. "Like... someone is missing..."

"Of course I do, Jackson," Derek said quietly. "Someone always will be missing. My whole family..."

"Oh, right," Jackson said, feeling like an idiot. That had been a stupid way to form the question. "Sorry."

"Why do you ask?" Derek asked, running his fingers up through Jackson's hair, over his ear.

Jackson shook his head. He wasn't sure how to formulate what he was thinking. Boyd had touched on something, and it bothered him... but he didn't think Boyd was quite right. It wasn't a friend Derek needed. He _did_ have friends, and he had Jackson. Dr. Kaya had taught Jackson the importance of a support system, a network of people who you could rely on through everything and anything. Jackson had his, and he was grateful everyday for it. And a big part of his support system was his family, his parents. They'd been the first he'd told about what Matt had done to him, and their reassurance that they still loved him and would do whatever it took to help him showed him that maybe it could be okay. Maybe he could get through what happened.

Derek had Jackson, and he had his pack... but he would never have a family. No matter how much Jackson was there for him, he would never be able to change that. If Derek wanted he could make friends. Perhaps not easily, given his personality, but it could be done. But his family was gone, forever.

"I just... I wish I could do more for you," Jackson mumbled. "I wish I could be more..."

Derek furrowed his brow. "What do you mean? Jackson, whatever you're worrying about, don't, okay? You do enough, I promise."

Although it was something he tried his best not to think about, a memory came back to him.

_Derek with fury in his eyes, turning his back on him. "Get out of my loft, go home to your family, Jackson,"_

_Tears fell from Jackson's eyes. He choked on his words. "Derek,_ _you're_ _my family, please—"_

_Derek paused in the doorway, glanced back over his shoulder. "I don't have any family," He said. Then he left, letting the door slam shut behind him._

Jackson shook his head. Derek hadn't meant that, hadn't meant any of it. But it was true either way. As much as he wanted to be, he would never be Derek's family. "No, I don't. I mean, I can't." He looked up at him. "I want to be what you need, but I'm not. I'll never be, not really."

"You have to tell me what we're talking about here, Jackson, because I'm lost," Derek said, smiling slightly. He put his fingers under Jackson's chin. "What do I need, huh?"

"Family," Jackson said quietly.

Derek stared at him for a moment, as if trying to decide how to respond. After a minute he leaned in and kissed him softly, and slowly. "Do you remember what you said to me, the night I lost my mind and broke up with you?" He asked, pulling back.

Jackson shrugged a shoulder. "I mean, kind of..." He mumbled.

"You said I was your family," Derek said. "Did you mean that?"

"Of course I did," Jackson said. "But _you_ said you didn't have a family, remember?"

Derek nodded, glancing away for a moment. "I was wrong," He said. "Even then, I knew that wasn't true," he took Jackson's hand in his and looked him straight in the eye. "I do have a family, Jackson. And it's you." Jackson just looked at him, unable to think of anything to say. "You and me, we make each other stronger. And whatever I've lost, whatever I've been through... I know you're what I need. What I'll always need."

"I guess we're playing for keeps, then," Jackson said, the words tumbling from his mouth before he'd even thought them over. Derek furrowed his brow slightly. "I—it's something Danny and I used to say, when we were kids. We'd go up against each other in lacrosse or soccer, and bet on things. Like if I won I got his G.I Joe or whatever, or he'd get something from me. And we always played for keeps, which meant that it was yours forever..." He licked his lips.

"I see," Derek said. He smiled. "Then we're playing for keeps," he said.

They met each other halfway, both moving in to press their mouths against the other. Jackson's fingers moved into Derek's hair and he breathed in his scent as they kissed. His heart was pounding in his chest and he made to no attempt to calm it, because he could hear Derek's heart beating just as fast and he knew that this was real. Had always known, he thought. It was more than that he loved Derek, more than that he needed and wanted him. He couldn't have described it, or explained it. Didn't have the words to say it, but he knew it deep down like a fundamental fact. Derek was his, and he was Derek's. And it would always be that way.

It was with great difficulty that Jackson said goodbye to Derek that night. They'd dawdled for a long time out by Derek's car, kissing slowly and saying goodbye, only to stand there for another 20 minutes. Eventually Derek insisted that it was time to leave, that he would see him again the next day and they could be with each other then. He'd gotten in his car and drove away.

Jackson watched the car until it was out of sight, and then listened to it speed away until he lost the sound of it altogether. Only then did he go back inside, and up to his room.

Picking up his cellphone, he found he had three missed calls, all from Allison. Worried, Jackson immediately called her back. She answered on the first ring.

"Jackson, thank god—is Derek with you?" She asked.

"No, he just left," Jackson said. "Why, what's going on?"

"It's the hunters," she said. Jackson immediately felt sick. "They know, they know there's another pack in town."

Jackson sat down on his bed, feeling like he'd just been slapped in the face. "What...?"

"They don't know it's you guys, but they heard you howl the other night and they're looking for witnesses,"

Jackson closed his eyes. Of course they'd heard him, the whole town had. Stupid, so stupid. Now everything was ruined and it was all his fault. "What do we do?" he asked hoarsely. What was Derek going to do when he found out? He knew the answer already. He would want to fight. Jackson couldn't let that happen.

"I volunteered to talk to the one girl they know was there. We can find out what she knows, if anything, and then tell my aunt and the others whatever we want. We can still get ahead of this, Jackson, it'll be alright."

Jackson nodded, running his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, you think so?" He asked, sounding desperate even to his own ears. "Allison, if they find out about us..."

"I know," Allison said. There was a fierceness in her voice that Jackson actually found reassuring. "And I swear, I will not let that happen."

Jackson nodded, and then remembered Allison couldn't see him. "Right. Good, thank you..." He muttered. "I have to go," he said.

"Alright," she said. "Be safe."

"You too."

They hung up, and Jackson fell back on his bed. He didn't know what to do, or what was going to happen. Did he tell the others? Allison had probably told Scott already, but he should tell Erica and Boyd and Isaac...

No, he decided. He would keep it to himself. If the others knew, it would only increase the chances of Derek finding out. And while Jackson didn't know what he was going to to about this yet, he did know that he would do anything to keep Derek from finding out.

* * *

For the entirety of the drive home, Derek was not able to keep the smile off his face. It was a small smile, to be sure, but for Derek that might as well have been grinning ear to ear. He didn't know why he felt so happy, only that he did.

Nothing had changed, not really. Derek had always felt this way about Jackson, and had long ago learned that Jackson felt the same. Still, there was something about saying it out loud, finally telling Jackson what he'd known for so long and hearing Jackson say he wanted the same...

It was strange to realize, but as he walked up to his apartment, it occurred to Derek that it been a long time since he'd felt lonely. That might not seem like a lot to most people, but for Derek it was a startling revelation. He was no longer alone. He had his pack, he had a friend in Scott (and at least some sort of acquaintance in Stiles). And of course, he had Jackson. And he would, forever.

Derek smiled again to himself, jingling his keys in his hand. "Playing for keeps..." He said quietly.

A noise came from inside his apartment. Derek froze, snapping into reality like a switch had been flicked. The smells were all wrong, unknown smells coming from inside his loft. Two scents... they were familiar, but he couldn't place them.

Derek slammed his door open, preparing himself for a fight. He froze.

Two girls were in his loft, one crumpled on the floor in the arms of her friend, who looked desperate. And beneath the scents Derek realized he could smell pain, and fear. Poison, and illness.

The oculus girl was injured, bleeding from her stomach. But the worst of her injuries was the poison coursing through her veins. Wolfsbane, he could tell. To a wolf, deadly. To others, still unpleasant. If treated properly, she would live. If not, the poison would kill her just as it would a wolf, only slower.

"Please," The wolf girl said, holding her friend in her arms. "The hunters... you have to help us..."

Derek swallowed. He knew why the scents were familiar now. They had been following him for weeks, going where he went and watching his every move. They'd stayed just out of range, and avoided being caught. And now he knew why.

The wolf girl looked up at him, with eyes he thought he would never see again. "Please, Derek." She said again.

Derek's mouth opened, and a name escaped his lips. _"Cora...?"_


	14. Family Affair

* * *

“Once you grow past Mommy and Daddy  
coming running when you're hurt, you're really on your own.  
You're alone, and there's no one to help you.”  
—Octavia Butler

* * *

It times long past, Alan Deaton had once been a heavy sleeper. As a child he'd slept through fire alarms, thunder and rain, blasting rock music and once what he was told was a _very_ loud break up between his sister and one of her boyfriends. Nothing could wake him once his head had hit the pillow. 

Once he'd become emissary to the Hale family, all that had changed. Now nothing woke him faster than the sound of a ringing phone. Even years later, there were times when his phone rang in the middle of the night and he expected it to be Talia Hale, calling with some crisis or another. Even though he knew when he picked up the phone that it would never again be her, knew that he had failed to help her the one time she'd _truly_ needed him... sometimes, in the middle of the night he thought just maybe it would be.

Though while Talia maybe have been gone, he knew his duty to her was not finished. There was still one Hale he could help and in that way, he still had his chance to do right by Talia.

It was past midnight when his phone rang, and Deaton was awake by the second ring. He pinched his eyes and groaned. Just because he was awake did not mean he was pleased about it.

“Hello...?” Deaton murmured, rubbing his eyes and trying to prepare himself for whatever was on the other end. What were the odds that it was just a very confused telemarketer? Or that he could get away with telling the person on the other end that they had the wrong number? _These are not the druids you're looking for..._

“I need your help,” came the reply from the other end. Deaton sat up, recognizing the voice of Derek Hale. And Derek never called, unless one of his pack was dying or close to it.

“What happened?” he asked, climbing out of bed. Only then did Natalie begin to stir. She raised her head and looked questioningly at him. He mouthed Derek's name to her, and she nodded and lay back down.

“It's... difficult to explain,” Derek was saying. His voice was strained. “There's a girl, she's not a werewolf but the hunters got her in the stomach with a wolfsbane arrow. I don't know how to help.”

Deaton nodded, mind racing as he pulled on his clothing. A million and three questions raced through his mind, but what he asked was “what does the wound look like?”

“I don't know,” Derek snapped. Deaton heard him take a breath. “It looks bad. She's bleeding a lot.”

Deaton paused. “The arrow, did you leave it in?” He asked.

“Of course,” Derek replied. “We're not stupid.”

Deaton raised an eyebrow, wondering who _we_ was. He decided not to ask. “Alright, I'm on my way.” If he had his choice, he would prefer to treat her at his clinic. But if the girl was badly hurt, and couldn't heal herself at all, moving her would be a risky move. Better he go to her.

Derek thanked him, and hung up.

“Who is it this time?” Natalie asked as he finished dressing.

“Someone else, not one of his pack,” he replied. “She can't heal, and she's wounded badly.”

“Need any help?” She asked.

He shook his head. “You've got your own pack to worry about,” he said. “You don't need to take on the troubles of mine, as well.”

* * *

Deaton got to Derek's loft as fast as he could. Derek pulled open the door for him before he had a chance to knock.

“She's convulsing,” Derek said. He looked tired, and his hair was standing on end. 

Deaton brushed past him into the apartment, and found a young girl in the throws of a seizure on Derek's floor. Another girl was on top of her, holding her down.

“You shouldn't do that,” Deaton said gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. The girl's head snapped towards him, eyes shining blue and mouth snarling. Deaton stepped back in shock. Not because of the snarl, or the mouthful of fangs it revealed, but because in her face he saw someoone he had never expected to see again. The girl was the spitting image of Talia Hale.

“Who...?”

The blue left the girls eyes, and worry replaced anger on her face. “Forget about that, help her,” she pleaded. She even sounded like Talia.

Deaton shook his head, and forced himself to focus on the girl on the floor. “Hold her head,” he instructed. “If she starts to cough up fluid, we'll turn her on her side.”

“Can you save her?” The girl asked. In that moment, with her eyes wide and afraid, she sounded as if she were eight years old. And Deaton knew who she was.

Deaton nodded. “I'll save her,” he promised.

* * *

After the fire that claimed the lives of his family, Derek had spent the following months in a state of confusion. Certain things he could recall with intense vividness; the smell of smoke and burning flesh in the air, the heat of the flames as Laura had pulled him away from the house. The stinging in his eyes and taste of ash and tears in his mouth. He could remember the very hour they'd received their inheritance, remember the colour of the tie the banker had worn as he'd Laura sign the papers to receive it. It had been periwinkle blue, and it had matched his eyes. Other things, Derek couldn't remember at all.

He didn't remember leaving Beacon Hills and driving to New York. He couldn't remember apartment hunting, or helping Laura find a job until the red tape tangling up their money could be cut. Large gaps of time were lost to him, and try as he might he could not get them back. But what he knew with absolute certainty was that if it had not been Laura, he never would have survived those months. His mother had taught him the importance of having an anchor, something that tethered you to the ground, kept you from losing yourself. For those months, and the years that followed, Laura had been his anchor.

When she was gone, all he had was anger. When Laura was gone, that was when he was truly alone in the world. No family, save Peter who could hardly be counted.

What would he have given, to have one of them back? Anything. Everything. His life, his soul, whatever price was required he would have paid it. Gladly.

And yet now here he sat, outside on the steps of his building, alone. He could hear what was happening inside, Deaton working with occasional assistance from Cora to save the life of her friend. Mending the girls wound, treating her poisoned blood.

What would Laura say, if she were here? He was fairly certain she would be angry with him, for feeling so rotten when he'd just been granted a miracle. His baby sister was back, alive and whole and right in front of him. Why the terrible feeling then? Where was the joy, the relief, the gratitude?

For weeks they'd been finding bodies, people with their brains removed and venom in their blood, dead in the streets. What had Stiles decided they would be called? Aberrants? All of them dead, and two young girls responsible for it.

For weeks he had been followed by them, catching their scent and losing it before he could track them. Had they been waiting to talk to him, or sizing him up for their next victim? How could he know?

Inside the loft, a door closed and footsteps came towards him. Deaton. The front door opened and the druid stepped outside into the cool October air. “She'll live,” he said, walking down the steps to stand in front of Derek. “She'll be weak for a while, but she'll live.”

Derek nodded. “Thank you,” he said. Deaton looked at him, obviously waiting for more. Derek met his gaze steadily, and said nothing.

“Care to tell me what's going on?” Deaton asked.

“I know as much as you do,” Derek replied.

“I don't know anything.” Deaton said. Derek raised an eyebrow. Deaton sighed. “Have you spoken to Peter?”

“No. Should I?”

“Considering he's the only other dead family member who's returned from the grave that you know, yes I think that would be wise. 

Derek glanced away. He hadn't thought of that. Could Peter have something to do with Cora's return? “I'll talk to him.” He said.

“Let me know what you find out.” Deaton said. “I've left Cora with a set of instructions for the girls care. Call me if there are any problems.” He said, before walking to his car. He drove away, and Derek watched him go. He stood up, and looked towards the loft. 

There were two places Derek felt it necessary he should go. The first was inside, to talk to his little sister. Did he question her about what had happened, or give a hug and never let go? Did he take her to the police, have her arrested for murder? Derek had too many questions, and not a single answer.

Then there was Peter, the second place he should go. Would Peter know what had happened with Cora, how she was back and why she was killing people? Perhaps he had brought her back, and killing others like them was a condition of her survival. Derek had read about such things, how to call back a soul another must be given in its place. If anyone would know, if would be Peter.

Derek got into his car, and pulled out into the street. There were two places he should go, but only one that he needed to. He drove away from Cora, and he drove away from Peter.

Instead, of drove towards his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there, how's it going? I was wondering if I could run something by you. See, there's not a hell of a lot of reviews being left here, and as someone full of insecurity and self doubt, well it troubles me. Now I have been left some VERY lovely reviews and I am thankful to every single one of you who has said something nice to me, but each time I post a chapter and get no response, well I have to wonder if I'm just doing a bad job, you know? I just want to know what you guys are thinking!
> 
> Now I've read a lot of fanfiction myself, and I know sometimes it's hard to leave a review because you just don't know what to say. So I was wondering if it would help if I asked some questions at the end of each chapter? Like “what was your favourite line from this chapter” or “which character stood out the most during this chapter” and so on and so on. Would that be helpful, or just something everyone would ignore? So if you think that would be a good thing to do, let me know! And if you don't think it would be good, I suppose you could also let me know, or you could just ignore it and that would send a message itself.
> 
> Here's my questions for this chapter:
> 
> “Did you think Deaton's perspective was written well?”
> 
> “Were you surprised by the reveal of Cora from the last chapter?”
> 
> “Whose perspective have you so far most enjoyed from this fic?”
> 
> PS as this chapter was very short I will try and have another posted on Wednesday.
> 
> PPS Feel free to comment on things other than the questions I asked.


	15. The Sister

* * *

"Do not stand at my grave and weep,  
I am not there, I do not sleep."  
— _Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep,_ Mary Elizabeth Frye

* * *

Around three in the morning Jackson found himself lying awake in bed, unsure about what had woken him up. His hearing focused on a sound outside his window, a strange thrum that after a moment he recognized as a heartbeat. Clearly, someone was on his roof.

Jackson got out of bed and made his way to his window. He stuck his head outside and was relatively unsurprised to find Derek sitting on his roof. What did surprise him was how awful Derek looked. His hair was sticking up, his clothes were rumpled and he smelled terrible. Sour, almost.

"What happened?" He asked, climbing out next to Derek. "Is everyone alright? What's wrong?" Derek had been fine when they'd parted hours before, better than fine even. What the hell had happened to him in past few hours?

Derek was quiet. Jackson placed himself next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Derek?" He pressed. "Talk to me."

"I don't know what to say," Derek murmured. "I don't know how to say it..."

"Just tell me, is everyone okay?" Jackson asked. "Erica, Isaac, Boyd...?"

Derek nodded, and Jackson let out a breath. Whatever happened, at least his pack was alright. "Everyone's fine. Isaac's at Erica's for the night, they've been sending me stupid photos of themselves all night."

"Alright then... just go slow, and start and the beginning," Jackson advised. "Tell me the facts."

Derek swallowed. "When I went home tonight, there was someone in my loft. Two girls... the ones we've been looking for."

Jackson's eyes widened slightly. "Are they dead?" He asked. Derek seemed upset, but Jackson could tell he was uninjured. And if the girls hadn't got him, then Jackson could only imagine Derek had got them.

Derek shook his head. "They weren't there to hurt me. They wanted my help. The oculus girl... the hunters got her with a wolfsbane arrow. I called Deaton, he—"

"You did _what?_ You helped them?! Derek, they're _murderers!_ They attacked me and Boyd, they killed—"

"I know," Derek mumbled. "I know..."

Jackson calmed down, too worried about Derek's demeanour to be angry. "Okay... you helped them... why?"

Derek bit his lip. "The werewolf... it's Cora." He said, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's my little sister, Cora."

Jackson raised an eyebrow. "Derek that's impossible," he said. "Isn't it?"

Derek glanced at him and shrugged. "Deaton thinks Peter might have something to do with it," Derek said. His voice was completely flat, and Jackson could smell exhaustion on him. He put his hand on Derek's, and squeezed it slightly, wishing he could take away this kind of pain too. "I was supposed to go talk to him but I... I came here instead..."

Jackson brushed his fingers through Derek's messy hair. "I'm glad you did," he said. Derek was clearly an awful mess, and Jackson was thankful he'd come to him. Now if he could only think of some way to hep him. "Lydia might be able to help," Jackson began. "She's a banshee, so she's got that connection to death thing going on. And remember, Peter was only able to come back because he used _her_ power. After he did that, I know she did a ton of research on how, so she could have some answers."

Derek nodded. "Right. And she has those visions, too. Maybe if she talks to Cora she could get some—I don't know, a sense of what happened, maybe."

Jackson pressed his lips together. He didn't want to tell Derek there was _no way_ that was going to happen but... there was no way it happening.

Derek caught sight of Jackson's expression and sighed. "No, of course not..." He muttered, closing his eyes and pinching the bride of his nose. "If she's killing us, we'd be throwing Lydia under the bus..."

"I'll talk to her, tomorrow," Jackson promised, relieved Derek understood. "And you go talk to Peter. Then together we'll go and talk to your sister."

Derek looked up sharply. "No," he said.

"What, why—?"

"For the same reason you don't want Lydia talk to her," Derek replied. "She's dangerous."

"And what about you?" Jackson asked. "They've been following you for _weeks_ haven't they?"

Derek sighed. "I can handle them," he said. "I'm the alpha."

"And you think that makes you invincible?" Jackson asked, growing angry. "It doesn't, Derek. You can get hurt and die, just like the rest of us."

"They've been following me for weeks, like you said. They could have attacked me at any time. They didn't."

"Maybe they were biding their time, sizing you up. They were following Boyd too, weren't they? And that didn't stop them from attacking him!"

A pained look crossed Derek's face and he turned away. "That's something else we have to do," he said. "Talk to Boyd."

"What? We do?" Jackson, slightly thrown by the change in topic. Derek nodded. "Alright, why? I mean, I thought you'd want to keep this whole thing kind of quiet until we had a better idea of what was going on."

"That was my first instinct, but Boyd... he has a right to know."

Jackson kept quiet as Derek told him why. "Tomorrow," he said. "We'll tell him tomorrow."

Derek frowned. "Why? Shouldn't we tell him now."

Jackson shook his head. "Let him have one more night where things make sense," he said.

* * *

With a jolt Erica awoke in darkness, heart racing and mouth dry. She breathed in for a moment and let herself calm down. It had only been a nightmare. A stupid nightmare that she hadn't had for months, and wished she would stop having. It had been those witch bitches the Hasting sisters who'd started it, and even without their influence she would still have it every now and again. It made her angry, mostly because it was such a dumb dream.

She glanced at the clock and groaned when she saw it was five minutes to seven, and that her alarm was about to go off. She turned it off and rolled out of bed, trudging towards the washroom. She hated mornings, always had. Though they had improved a lot for her since she'd become a werewolf, she still wasn't a fan. But at least she no longer dreaded going to school the way she once had, feeling almost physically sick at the prospect of standing amongst her laughing, chatting classmates, always wondering if they were laughing at her. At least now she could walk down the hall with confidence, and meet up with her own friends. Now she could laugh and chat and not worry that at any moment she would taste blood at the back of her throat, that horrible warning sign that she was about to drop to the floor, shaking and convulsing, pissing herself and unable to control her limbs.

That's what her dream was about. What they were _always_ about. The dreams came in two types: the first, where she had never be cured of her epilepsy and the second where it came back. This dream had been the second type. In her dream she had ceased to be a wolf, and her affliction had returned. She'd been kicked out of the pack, and as she'd convulsed on the floor they had all walked by her, heads turned away, barely hiding their laughter and disgust at her. She'd reached for Boyd, but even he had turned from her...

It was a stupid dream, and she was stupid for having it. She knew there was no way "cure" her werewolfism, no way her epilepsy would return. And more than that, she knew that if it did, her pack would not turn on her. Not any single one of them.

Erica brushed her teeth and applied her make-up, taking her time curling her hair and picking out her outfit. Once, she'd balked at this sort of thing, insisting that make-up and fashion were for dumb girls, sluts who couldn't feel good about themselves unless they had their boobs pushed up to their eyes and three layers of make-up caked on their faces.

Secretly, she'd always been jealous of those girls. She'd wished, desperately wished she could be like them, strutting around in short skirts and heels, pouting her lips as she applied garish colours to them and batting her mascaraed eyes. She'd wished she could be beautiful.

But thanks her to epilepsy, heels were a dangerous thing. Her skin had been too sensitive for make-up—even the slightest application made her break out in a terrible rash. Her hair had been brittle, untameable and dry no matter what she did to it. She'd looked in the mirror and hated what she saw. Seen nothing but an ugly, pimply girl. She'd seen someone weak and pathetic. And while she'd collected fashion magazines and poured over them in secret, she'd had no confidence to wear any of the clothes she'd longed for.

All of that had changed when Derek had given her the bite. Her skin had cleared up, her epilepsy vanished. Her hair and gone smooth and sleek, suddenly luscious and shining. And Derek, this handsome stranger in a fine leather jacket, had looked at her and told her she was beautiful.

They'd gone shopping that same day, and she had spent every single penny in her bank account on a brand new wardrobe. She'd bought short skirts and heels and sexy shirts and her first ever push up bra. She'd spent three hours in Sephora, letting a very eager sales girl help her buy all the right shades, and learning how to apply them. She'd transformed herself into the person she'd always wanted to be, the person she'd felt deep down that she truly was.

Erica had seen enough Disney movies to know that after her whirlwind make-over, she was supposed to go back to looking like she'd used to, and realize that she'd _always_ been beautiful, and it wasn't what you looked like on the outside that mattered as long as you kept love in your heart or some bullshit. She knew she was supposed to forget her fancy clothes, ignore the make-up and appreciate who she was without it all.

Well, Disney could screw itself because Erica was _never_ going back. She didn't care if it was vain, or petty. She _liked_ the way she looked now, and she liked dressing up in tight clothes and putting on false lashes and red lipstick. She liked strutting around in heels and winking at boys (and girls) and knowing that she looked amazing. If that confidence was a bad thing, then that was just too bad.

Around eight she wandered out of the washroom, fully dressed and make-uped and woke up Isaac, who was asleep on the air mattress next to her bed.

She stood over his sleeping figure and cleared her throat. "Help, _fire!_ " She shouted. Isaac bolted up, eyes darting around and half his hair sticking straight up.

"Who's the fire!?" He yelped stupidly, before his eyes adjusted and he looked at her. His eyes narrowed. "That's not cool."

Erica shrugged, and grinned. "It's time for breakfast," she said, picking up her backpack and shoving a few books inside.

Isaac rolled off the bed, and began getting dressed. Erica averted her eyes politely. Isaac wasn't exactly shy (he'd beefed up quite a bit since getting the bite) but she knew Boyd wouldn't like her looking, so avoiding staring at Isaac's abs seemed like the correct thing to do. Besides, she didn't really want to stare at anyone's but Boyd's abs anyways.

After Isaac was dressed they headed to the kitchen, where her parents were already mid-breakfast. "Good morning, dear," Her mother said, giving her a smile that Erica half-heartedly returned. "Erica, don't you look nice this morning?"

Erica rolled her eyes. "I _always_ look nice," She replied, grabbing the Eggo waffles from the freezer and putting a few in the toaster.

When the toaster popped she grabbed the waffles and gave them to Isaac, who put some butter and Nutella on them, then pressed them together and eat it like a waffle-Nutella sandwhich. When Erica's waffles popped, she did the same thing. Her mother looked on with disdain. "Are you sure you kids don't want some plates?" She asked. "Or to sit down, maybe?"

Erica shrugged. "We're good," she said, with her mouthful.

There was the sound of a car pulling into their driveway, and someone got out and walked to the front door. She focused her sense of smell, and determined that it was Jackson at the door. "Jackson's here," she said, popping the last bit of waffle into her mouth before going for the door.

"Oh, were you expecting him?" Her mother asked.

"No," Erica replied. She opened the door, and grinned at him. "Sup?" She asked. Her brow furrowed when she realized that Jackson looked kind of grim. "Everything alright?"

Jackson nodded. "Yeah, everything's fine. Can I come in?" he asked.

She stepped aside and let him in, and they walked into the kitchen. Jackson nodded at Isaac, who shot finger guns back at him. "Mr. Reyes, Mrs. Reyes, good morning." Jackson greeted, smiling politely at her parents. Erica resisted rolling her eyes once more.

"Good morning," Her mother greeted, smiling widely at Jackson. Her mother loved Jackson, and had been heartbroken when she'd found out he was gay, and involved with Derek. Jackson was handsome, polite and came from a good (see: rich) family. The ideal match, especially now that Erica had become so marriageable. Not that they had anything against Boyd, who was also polite and handsome (more so than Jackson, Erica personally thought). The only trouble was he came from a family with only one garage, and no summer home to speak of.

"Erica, can we talk in private," Jackson asked, turning to her. The smell of worry was coming off of him, and Erica was starting to feel concerned. She nodded, and they walked into the other room. "I have to tell you something..."

"Is it something you're alright with Isaac hearing?" Erica asked. "Because he will."

Jackson frowned. "Oh, right..."

Isaac stuck his head into the room. "Can I just come in then?" He asked. "I'll be listening anyways."

Jackson sighed, and nodded. "Yeah, come on," he said. Isaac grinned and walked in. "Look, Derek and I were talking last night, and he told me some stuff that's pretty... I mean, I don't really know how to feel about it. Neither does he. We've got some plans to get to the bottom of things, but before we do that we need you guys to know about it," Jackson paused. "Well, not really _you_ guys. But we need to tell Boyd, and I think it would be better coming from Erica than me or Derek."

Erica frowned, and brow creased. "Jackson, just tell us what's going on," she said.

Jackson sighed, and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Last night, those two girls showed up at Derek's," he said. Erica opened her mouth, but Jackson cut her off. "He's fine, completely unharmed. They were there because they wanted his help."

Erica raised an eyebrow. "Well I hope he didn't give it to them," she said. Jackson glanced away. "You're kidding me," she said, mouth opening. "Why the hell would he do that?"

"Because the werewolf girl is his sister. Cora."

Erica stared at him. Isaac snorted. "Right, sure." He said. Jackson did not laugh. "You're joking, right?"

Jackson glared at him. "Oh, yeah. The dead sister returned from the grave gag, that's my favourite," he replied. "What a gut buster."

"Wait, how... how?" Erica asked. It wasn't as if this sort of thing was unheard of, it's just that it was completely insane, whether or not it was impossible.

Jackson shrugged. "We have no idea. We're going to chase down a few leads today but right now we have no clue what's going. Derek... he's pretty messed up right now. I'm not sure really what to do..."

"Well, we'll figure it out," Isaac said. "All of us, together."

"What does this have to do Boyd?" Erica pressed.

Jackson cringed slightly. "Well, that's the other thing. See, Cora... she didn't tell Derek much when she showed up. Her friend, the oculus, she was hurt... that kind of took her attention, from what I've been told. But she did say one thing. She told us the name of the other girl."

Erica raised her eyebrows. "Yeah? What's her name?"

Jackson swallowed. "She said her name was Alicia," he told her. "Alicia Boyd."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions! 
> 
> 1) Was Erica's perspective well written, or could her voice use work?
> 
> 2) What do you think about the reveal of Boyd's sister Alicia? Any theories about how she and Cora are together? 
> 
> 3) What would you like to see more of in this story?


	16. Alright, Good Talk – Jaina Fisher

* * *

"The depression monster floats around endlessly,  
always covering his eyes to hide itself from the outside world.  
Because of this it always bumps into people or other monsters  
causing more distress to itself each time.  
It's only relief is to wrap its fluid tail around a victim  
and share its depression with them."  
—Toby Allen, _Depression Monster_

* * *

The students around her were out of their seats even before the lunch bell had rung. By the time the last bell tolled, everyone had left the classroom, eagerly rushing outside to enjoy the last remains of summer warmth still clinging to the air. Jaina was the only one left behind, still sitting at her desk even as the teacher left as well. It had been a rough morning, even by Monday morning standards. Her head felt like it was full of molasses, slow and thick, thoughts getting trapped in the mixture, unable to make their way fully across her mind.

Eventually she pulled herself up from her seat and made her way out of the school. The sun was bright and she squinted against the harsh light as she looked around for an empty picnic table. She knew she could always go hang out with Alyssa and Bo, up at their usual spot, but today she felt like being alone.

Finding a picnic table off to the side, Jaina sat down and removed her brown paper bag lunch from her backpack. Tuna salad sandwich with tomato, the same thing she'd taken for lunch every day for the last three years, when her parents had insisted she begin to make her own lunch. She stared down at her sandwich, trying to summon the will to eat it.

After a minute passed and she still hadn't picked it up, she began wondering if her parents were right. Maybe she _did_ need to see a therapist. It wasn't normal, was it, to feel like this? This... emptiness. No, empty wasn't quite right. It was an empty feeling, but it also felt heavy. A heavy emptiness sitting on her shoulders, keeping her arms down and making her eyes droop. She'd denied that she needed any help, but she was starting to think that maybe she could use some... Still, something was stopping her. Maybe it was the same thing that was stopping her from eating the dumb sandwich, the heavy emptiness that kept her confined to her bed in the morning until her mother literally dragged her out of it. It was that, but it was something else as well. Fear. The fear that perhaps talking to someone wouldn't help. That maybe what she was feeling was just part of her now. The fear that it would always be this way.

Jaina stared down at her sandwich, frowning. There was a shadow over it now, which seemed strange. Slowly, she looked up and her mouth opened slightly when she saw Allison Argent and Lydia Martin standing in front of her table. Allison had a small smile on her face, and her eyebrows were raised. After a long moment, Jaina realized she'd asked her something. "Huh?"

"I said 'mind if we join you?'" Allison repeated.

Jaina nodded. "Yeah," she said. Then she winced. "I mean, no, I don't mind. Go ahead, sit."

Allison smiled again, and she and Lydia took a seat. "God, does today feel like it's going painfully slow or what?" She said.

Jaina started at her. What the hell were Allison Argent and Lydia Martin doing at her table? Sitting with her. Talking to her, as though they were friends. Did Allison want to talk about what had happened in the summer? That was the only thing Jaina could think of.

Lydia was saying something in reply to Allison, and she brushed a piece of strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder as she spoke. Jaina wondered how she got her hair so shiny and sleek. She knew her own hair—a garish and violent shade of red, especially compared to Lydia's—was frizzy and full of split ends. How did they both do it, sit there and look so beautiful? It was as though they were from another planet, a planet of beautiful perfect people where a monster like herself would never be welcome.

And yet here they were, sitting at her table.

"So, Jaina," Allison said. There was a pointedness to the way she said it, and Jaina had the sense that whatever she was about to say was the reason she'd come over in the first place. "You were Jessy's party last Saturday, weren't you?"

Jaina blinked. "Um, yeah. My friend Alyssa invited me..." she said. Her brow furrowed. "Um, is this about... the thing?" She asked. She glanced at Lydia, unsure if she knew about these sorts of things or not. But then, of course she would She was Allison's best friend, and she hung out with Scott and Stiles as well. Besides, she'd heard things about Lydia, rumours of strange things happening with her...

Allison frowned. "What thing?"

Jaina bit her lip. Maybe Lydia _didn't_ know? "The thing... in the summer..." she trailed off, raising her eyebrows. Allison stared at her, and after a moment Jaina realized. She didn't remember. "Right, of course... stupid, why would you remember, it was probably no big deal to you..." She shook her head, feeling foolish.

"What are you guys talking about?" Lydia pressed, raising eyebrow. "What _thing?_ "

Allison shrugged slightly, glancing apologetically at her.

Jaina sighed. "It was about a week into July, at like three in the morning or something. I was walking home from Alyssa's house when this guy stepped out of the shadows. It was weird, right? So he comes up to me and starts chatting me up. I remember thinking he was kind of funny looking, you know? Not bad looking, just funny. Like, his eyes were too dark or something. Anyways, I tried to leave, because I was pretty creeped out, but the guy puts his hand on me and his grip is like, steel. I couldn't move, couldn't get away..." Jaina swallowed, trying to block out the memories of fear and anxiety as she'd realized how much stronger that guy had been.

It seemed a silly thing, that what scared her most was how much stronger he was than her... but the realization of her own weakness, of the fact that no matter how hard she struggled and fought, she would not be able to free herself... it frightened her.

"Anyways, the creep is smiling at me as a I try to get away, and he tells me he's going to kill me." She continued. She managed to say it fairly calmly, despite the fact that at that point in the story she had been sobbing uncontrollably. "I begged him to let me go, promised I would never tell anyone... he just smiled. Then he... put a finger nail against my neck, and dragged it down. I couldn't believe how much blood there was..." She paused, and shook her head. "He started to drag me off but then suddenly... he stopped. I looked up, and I saw there was an arrow, sticking out of his forehead. He let go of me and I turned around and saw three people standing there." Jaina looked at Allison, searching for some sign of recognition in her eyes. She could remember it _so clearly,_ how she felt looking up and seeing Scott, Stiles and Allison standing there. Allison'd had her bow up, and was firing arrows at her attacker. Stiles had a black baseball bat, and a wooden stake. Scott... Scott had been a monster.

Jaina had not stuck around to see what happened between them. The moment the attention had been off her, she'd run for her life and had not stopped until she was safe in her bed. She'd stayed awake all night, mind working at ten times its usual speed, wondering what the hell she'd seen. Should she call the police? What would she tell them? That monsters were real and one had almost killed her, but she'd been saved by a group of teenagers? She'd heard rumours of Scott and his friends before, that whenever something strange was going on they were always involved, always there but before that night she hadn't given it much thought.

"I'm sorry, Jaina," Allison said. She looked it, too. "We fought so many of those guys during the summer, it's hard to keep track of them all."

Jaina nodded. "Right... it's cool, I get it," she said. "So that stuff... it's just no big deal to you guys?" She wondered how they slept at night. She had barely slept at all, since the attack. She still had a scar on her neck, where he had cut her. If they hadn't shown up, was he going to drink her blood?

"Oh, it's a big deal," Lydia said, looking more annoyed than anything. "It's all we ever do anymore," she complained. Allison gave her a look. "What? Oh, come on. We can't even go to a party without it turning into some big disaster."

"You mean Jessy's party?" Jaina asked. Allison had mentioned it before. That must have been why they were speaking to her. "You want to know about the wolf."

Allison's eyes widened slightly. "So you _did_ see something?" She asked. She sounded worried.

Jaina shook her head. "No, but I heard a wolf howling..." She frowned. "At first, I thought it was Scott," she said. "He's... a werewolf, right? That's what he is?" Allison nodded, looking slightly reluctant. "I was pretty high at the party, but when I sobered up I realized it must have been one of those two guys." She frowned, trying to remember their names. She knew they were part of Allison's group, but she couldn't recall exactly who they were. "They went out there right before I heard the wolf..." A thought occurred to her. "Are all you guys werewolves?"

Allison glanced at Lydia, who shrugged. Allison shook her head. "No, just some of them."

Jaina assumed that meant she could discount Allison as one. "Which ones?" She asked.

"The less you know, the better."

Jaina frowned. She supposed Allison was right, but she was still curious. Still, she let it go.

"Listen, Jaina," Allison said, leaning forward. "You can't tell anyone about any of this, alright? Not about Scott, or Boyd and Jackson."

Right, Boyd and Jackson, that was their names. "Who would I tell?" She asked. "I mean... who would even believe me?"

"In this town?" Lydia said. "You'd be surprised."

"There are people in town now, and they might come asking you questions," Allison continued. "You have to promise me you won't tell them anything, alright? As far you're concerned, this is a normal town where normal things happen. You didn't hear anything, or see anything."

Jaina looked at her, and she wondered what Allison's life was like. That night she'd been attacked had been one of the most terrifying moments of her life. Was that what every day was like for Allison? Monsters and blood and flying arrows, was that all normal for them? If it was, Jaina suddenly felt very sorry for her. "I promise not to say anything," she said. Allison looked relieved. "But I want you to tell me why."

Allison glanced at Lydia again, for a moment. Then she turned back to her. "Because if you do, all my friends could die."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates, recently! I've been very busy! Right now I'm trying to get a web series going. If you want to support me you can watch it at https://www(.)youtube(.)com/watch?v=RYg0AXJv5Ms  
> We need as many views as possible, and nice comments wouldn't hurt either! 
> 
> SO here's my questions for this chapter:
> 
> 1) What did you think of Jaina? Does she seem fleshed out?
> 
> 2) What did you like about this chapter? What did you not like?
> 
> 3) Would this chapter have been better from the perspective of Allison or Lydia?


	17. Alright, Good Talk - Jackson

* * *

"There is no quote for this chapter, because the author was lazy  
and also couldn't find one that seemed like a good fit.  
She also doubts anyone pays much attention to these."  
—Nicole, _That One Author Chick_

* * *

As they drove towards Peters apartment, Jackson could tell that Derek was nervous. Agitated. He could smell it in his sweat and see it in the way he gripped the steering wheel, so tight his knuckles were white. Jackson almost told him to ease up, in case he ripped the thing off.

"Derek..." Jackson began.

"I know, I know," Derek grumbled.

Jackson raised an eyebrow. "You know what?"

"That we'll figure this out, and it'll be alright and you're with me no matter what," Derek said.

"Actually, I was going to tell you to loosen up on the steering wheel," Jackson replied. "You're going to tear it off."

"Oh," Derek said. He eased up on the wheel slightly.

"Those other things are true though," Jackson continued. "We _will_ figure this out. Together."

"I know," Derek repeated. "I just... I hate he part where we need Peters help."

"That goes without saying," Jackson said. "But he's the best lead we've got. And by best I mean only."

"I still hate it," Derek grumbled.

Jackson didn't disagree. None of them had had much contact with Peter over the last year, and with good reason: everyone hated him. Sure, there were times when he was somewhat helpful, like when he'd given Derek the book on fae, for Lydia, but those moments were few and far between and in no way made up for the hell he'd put them all through. Maybe if he was in anyway apologetic or showed some regret over his actions, it would be a different story. _Maybe._ But as it was, Peter only ever rolled his eyes and acted like they all needed to move on, when any of his past atrocities were brought up.

They parked across the street from Peter's lavish apartment building, and climbed out of the car. They didn't say much on the trip up the elevator, but Jackson could tell Derek's nerves were growing. It wasn't just the situation they were in, or the stress he was under. It was Peter doing this to him, making him anxious like this. If Jackson could have hated the man any more than he already did, in that moment he would have.

Jackson put his hand in Derek's shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. Derek glanced at him, and Jackson gave him a small nod. Derek swallowed, and seemed to steady himself a bit.

The elevator doors opened and they made their way to Peter's apartment. Peter pulled the door open before they had a chance to knock, and grinned at them. "Derek, Jackson, how good of you to visit," he said.

Jackson recoiled slightly, and saw Derek do the same. Peter was wearing only a silky black bathrobe which was open a bit revealing a smooth chest. Thankfully it was cinched tightly at the waste, because Jackson was reasonably sure there was nothing underneath but Peter, and he did not need to see that.

Peter, obviously pleased with their reactions, continued to smirk. "Are you coming in?" He asked, stepping back to allow them to enter. Jackson glanced at Derek, suddenly rethinking the whole thing. Derek looked reluctant as well. However, he nodded slightly and together they entered the apartment.

"I apologize for my attire," Peter said, closing the door behind him. He did not sound even remotely apologetic. "I have company, and I was assuming this would be quick."

Jacksons frowned. "Company?" He asked. Derek groaned, and just then Jackson picked up noise coming from what Jackson thought was Peter's bedroom. Giggling and playful laughter sounded from beyond the walls, and then two practically naked people all but fell out into the room.

"Peter, where've you got to...?" One of them, a girl with sleek blonde hair and enormous breasts, was saying. She froze when she saw Derek and Jackson. Her eyes darted between the two of them, then towards Peter, then down to her own naked body. She shot back into the bedroom, moving faster than Jackson had seen a human move in a while.

"Aw, don't be like that, Care," her friend said, wearing a smirk to match Peter's. Like the girl, he was wearing only his underwear. Unlike her, he didn't seem to mind the presence of two strangers. When he received no response from her, he shrugged and slunk over to Peter's side. He draped an arm over Peter's shoulders and smiled at Jackson. "She's shy," he explained. "Petey didn't exactly tell us he was having guests over," he said in a chiding voice, sliding a finger along Peter's cheek. Jackson wanted to vomit. "But the more the merrier, I say,"

Peter grinned. "This is Tom," he said. Tom, a lanky boy with sandy hair and bags under his eyes who looked about Jackson's age, smiled toothily. "Tom, this is my nephew Derek and his boyfriend Jackson."

Tom pouted. "Nephew?" He repeated, looking put out. "That's not much fun." He raised an eyebrow at Jackson. "But boyfriend... That we could work with,"

Jackson resisted the urge to take a step behind Derek. He didn't like the way Tom was looking at him, at all.

"Talk about Jackson like that again, and I'll rip your eyes out and feed them to you," Derek growled. Tom looked taken aback. Derek gritted his teeth, and then glanced at Jackson. "Sorry... I know, you're perfectly capable of defending yourself."

"No, that's fine." Jackson said. "Feel free to defend me."

Derek nodded. He turned back to Tom, and bared his teeth slightly. Tom turned his nose up.

"Now now, there's no need for violence," Peter said. "We're all friends here,"

Jackson raised an eyebrow. "Interesting definition of the words _friends._ I didn't think it was usually used for people who hate you,"

Tom snickered slightly, and Peter cast a slightly betrayed look in his direction. "What?" Tom said. "It was funny."

Peter sighed. "Alright, no more bullshit. You mentioned needing to discuss something when you called," he said. "What is it?"

Derek gritted his teeth. "Send _him_ away first,"

"I'll send mine away if you send yours,"

"Jackson stays with me. And don't you dare compare him to your latest _plaything."_ Derek snapped.

Tom looked offended. "Hello, standing right here.."

Derek ignored him. "Tell him to go wait with the girl,"

Peter clenched his jaw, and then nodded at Tom. "Go wait with Caroline. Don't give me that look, just do it,"

Casting a furious glare at them all, Tom turned around and stalked out of the room. Once he was gone, Derek turned to Peter. "Last month I told you about two girls who were in town, killing people like us. You said you didn't know anything about it."

"And I don't," Peter said.

"I don't believe you," Derek said. "Not anymore."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Well that's not my problem. If I knew something, I'd tell you. It's in my own best interest, after all. These girls are killing our kind, and unlike _you_ I can barely defend myself. Coming back from the dead has its side effects, you know." Peter smiled slightly, and looked at Jackson. "Well, _he_ knows."

Derek glowered. "That's why we're here. You brought yourself back... Did you do that with anyone else?"

Peter's eyebrows knitted together slightly. "No..." A smile slowly grew on his face. "Why? Who's come back?"

Derek glanced away for a moment, and then back to his uncle. "Cora."

The smile slipped away. "What?"

"You heard me. Cora. She's alive, in town and she's killing people."

Peter turned away. Jackson couldn't read his emotions, or tell what he was thinking or feeling. Did Peter care about his family at all? Was there any humanity left in him? "I had nothing to do with it..." Peter muttered. There was some trace of emotion in his voice, but Jackson wasn't sure what it was. Bitterness, perhaps.

"Really, because you're the only person I know who's been able to bring themselves back after they died. And we both know you're not above killing,"

Peter turned back, eyes burning a furious blue. "I only ever did what I had to do," Peter snapped. "To get retribution for our family. Those people deserved what they got, and don't pretend you disagree."

Derek stepped forward. "And Laura?" He asked. "Was she part of your revenge too? Because last I checked, she was part of the family you claim to have been avenging!"

Peter looked furious, and for a moment Jackson thought he was going to strike Derek. But then the blue faded from his eyes, and he backed down. "Laura... was a mistake," he said quietly.

"Cut the bullshit, Peter," Derek growled. "You meant to kill her, you wanted her power."

"I won't deny that," Peter said. "But it was a mistake."

Jackson wouldn't say he looked sorry, not exactly. But he thought this was as close to remorseful as it was possible for Peter to look.

Derek glared at him, likely trying to figure out if this was more bullshit or not. "So you don't know anything about Cora? How she's back? Why she's killing people?"

Peter shook his head. "Who exactly has she killed?" He asked.

"I told you, she's killing our kind. Her and another girl."

Peter nodded. "Right... and Cora is how old, exactly?"

Derek's brow furrowed. "What? I'm not sure... 17 or 18, maybe? Why?"

Peter shook his head. "Well, obviously she didn't just come back from the dead, then. If she did, she'd be an 8 year old. Which means she either came back to life immediately—which obviously I had nothing to do with, since I was essentially comatose at that point—or she didn't die at all."

"You think she survived the fire?" Jackson asked.

"How could she have survived?" Derek asked. "The police said you were the only survivor."

Peter shrugged. "I don't know how," He said. "But I bet she does. Have you tried asking?"

Derek didn't answer, and Peter rolled his eyes. "No, of course not. That would be the obvious thing to do though, don't you think?"

"Thanks for all the help, we'll see ourselves out," Derek sneered. He turned on his heel and stormed out of the apartment. Jackson followed closely behind him.

* * *

They drove back down the street, going faster than Jackson thought was legally allowed. Derek looked furious. "What a waste of time," He grumbled. "He didn't know anything!"

"It wasn't a complete waste," Jackson said, although it did agree it sort of was. "Now we know Peter wasn't involved, and that Cora probably didn't die in the fire."

"The second part we probably could have figured out ourselves if we'd thought about it for 30 seconds," Derek said. He gritted his teeth. "A mistake, he says." Derek made a noise of disgust. "That wasn't a mistake. A mistake is locking your keys inside the car, not killing one of your only remaining relatives!"

"Maybe he just meant that he regrets it," Jackson said. Derek looked at him. "I'm just saying. Maybe he's... sorry, in his own way."

"You're on his side now!?"

"No! Of course not. I just..." Jackson shook his head. "Never mind."

Derek shook his head. "I hate the way that kid was looking at you," he mumbled. "I should've done something about it."

"You threatened to feed him his own eyeballs, remember?"

"I mean something physical. I should have _actually_ fed him his eyeballs, not just threatened. Threats mean nothing if there's no follow through." Derek glanced at him. "It bothered you, didn't it? The way he was looking at you?" Jackson shrugged. "I knew it. I should have killed him."

"It did bother me..." Jackson said slowly. "But... the fact that it did bother me, bothered me even more." He cringed slightly. It sounded so stupid out loud. "Forget it, it's dumb."

"It's not dumb, keep going."

Jackson sighed. "It's just... there was a time when I liked people looking at me like that, you know? Fuck, I loved it. I liked being stared at, and drooled over. And I just... I hate that it bothers me now. What if it's always like this? Just, for the rest of my life? I'm just always going to be a completely different person because of... him."

Derek stared out the windshield, and took a moment before he answered. "It's not fair, is it?" He asked. "These things happen... things we can't control. And you have to spend your whole life picking up the pieces."

Jackson nodded. "It's not fair," he agreed.

Derek glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "I could go back and kill him," he offered. "If it would help."

Jackson smiled slightly. "Sure," he said. "Why not? We'll pin it on Peter, he'll go to jail. Two birds."

The corner of Derek's mouth turned up. "It's good to have someone who understands me," he said.

Jackson agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, sorry, short chapter again! This chapter, the last chapter and the next chapter were all supposed to be one chapter but I've had so little time to write I thought it would be better to publish it in short little bursts like this this, then just not post anything until I found the time to get the whole thing down.
> 
> I can't think of any questions this week because I am truly a failure at everything I attempt. Instead, ask me questions you have and I will answer them.


	18. Alright, Good Talk - Boyd

* * *

"I can't exactly describe how I feel  
but it's not quite right.  
And it leaves me cold."  
—F. Scott Fitzgerald, _The Love of the Last Tycoon_

* * *

 

Boyd stood in the yard, squinting in the sunlight as he struggled to recall the events of the previous week. Everything had happened so fast, and he'd gone over it all so many times... and yet he couldn't help but feel he was missing something. Not quite missing it, it was almost there... and then it was gone again, never to be completely grasped.

"Alright, so one more time..." Allison said. "You were standing right where you are now...?"

Boyd sighed. How many times were they going to do this? "Yes, I was standing here. Like I said. I heard a noise behind me, but before I could turn around something stabbed in the neck. I seized up, fell over and passed out." Boyd paused. There was something else, something he hadn't mentioned in all the times he'd told them this story. He would have mentioned it before... but he wasn't entirely sure it was real. Before he'd passed out, he thought he'd heard a girl yell... but the memory was faint and the sound of her voice in his mind faded in and out. How could he be sure he hadn't already been unconscious, and simply imagined a girl yelling... yelling what? It was almost as if he could hear her, but never could he make out what she was saying.

Allison frowned, and looked over at Lydia. Lydia shrugged. "Sorry, I've got nothing. No feelings, no visions." Allison turned away. "Hey, that's a _good_ thing. My powers only come into play when _death_ is involved. Clearly, Boyd wasn't going to die. That's good."

"But it doesn't make sense," Boyd heard Stiles say, from across the yard. Stiles was crouching near the basement window, peering inside. He glanced over at them. "I mean, I'm happy they didn't kill him... but why?"

Boyd turned away. He looked over at Erica, who was standing off to the side with Isaac. The two of them had been uncharacteristically quiet all day. Maybe he should mention the girl he thought he'd heard. Perhaps she had been real, and was the reason he hadn't been killed.

"What are you looking at?" Boyd asked, walking over to Stiles. He crouched next to him and looked at the dark window Stiles was staring it. It was completely black, like someone had covered it up from the inside.

"Here," Stiles said, pointing to the bottom of the window. There was something lining the window, that Boyd hadn't noticed. "I don't know what it is... Jessy said she had mold down there, but that doesn't look like mold..."

Boyd looked closer. It was definitely some kind of plant, or plants, but definitely not mold. "It looks like thorns," he mumbled. "And something else, too."

"Thorns?" Stiles repeated, glancing at him. "Like from a rose?"

Boyd shrugged a shoulder. "Could be. Or from a blackberry bush or some other kind of thorny plant. It's hard to tell." He paused, and focused on his sense of smell, trying to pick up the fragrance of the plants. He frowned. "That's weird..." He said. Stiles raised an eyebrow. "Even through the glass, I should be able to get the scent... but there's nothing."

"Maybe the mold smell is overpowering it?" Stiles suggested.

Boyd shook his head. "That's the thing, there is no mold smell. There's _no smell_ at all. It's like the basement is a big, empty, scentless void." He said. "It's weird." Stiles turned back to the window, frowning deeply. Boyd tried looking again at the plants in the window. "If I had to guess, I'd say the other plant is masterwort." he said. "Just going on the shape of the flower."

Stiles nodded. "Masterwort and thorns..." He muttered. "That is weird."

"What're you two looking at?"

Boyd looked up and saw Jessy standing above them, holding a tray of juice boxes and snacks. Beside him, Stiles rose to his feet and Boyd did the same. "Oh, there's—"

"Nothing there," Stiles interrupted. "I thought I might have seen something, but there's nothing."

Boyd raised an eyebrow, wondering what had prompted Stiles to lie. But then again, it was Stiles. Lying just seemed to be in his nature. Still, something about the herbs in Jessy's basement window struck him as odd as well. Maybe this time, Stiles had a good reason for the lie.

"Ok then," Jessy said. She held out the tray. "Snacks?"

"Yeah, thank you," Stiles said, grabbing a fruit juice box and a bag of Doritos. "Awesome."

She offered them to Boyd as well, and he politely declined. He wasn't feeling very hungry, at the moment.

"We should probably get going," Allison said, walking over. She had a juice box as well, and took a sip from it. Something about this was strangely amusing to Boyd. Allison always seemed so serious and mature to him, it was odd seeing her sipping on a juice box like that.

"Boyd, if you remember anything else," Scott began. "Promise you'll tell us, alright?" He gave Boyd a look that held such sincerity and eagerness that Boyd almost opened his mouth and told him about the girl he'd thought he'd heard. Somehow he knew that if even if it turned out to not have been real, Scott wouldn't judge him, or think any less of him.

Still, he wanted to be sure before he said anything, and so he kept silent. "I will," Boyd said.

* * *

 

Erica and Isaac continued their mime impersonations on the walk to the bus stop. Boyd checked the app on his phone, and sighed when he saw the bus wouldn't be arriving for another 20 minutes. His nerves were already on edge, and his head ached from straining to recall the events of the night he'd been attacked. He couldn't take another 20 minutes of Harpo and Teller.

"Alright, someone tell me what's going on? Who died?" Boyd asked. He'd meant it jokingly, but the looks he received from Erica and Isaac made the question seem far less funny. "Seriously, guys... you've been acting weird all day."

Erica and Isaac exchanged looks. Isaac raised his eyebrows, and Erica sighed. She turned back to Boyd. "Boyd... I should have told you this morning," she began. "I was going to, I swear... but you were already stressed about that test we had second period, so I thought I'd wait until that was over. But then you were so relieved and happy afterwards and so I still didn't say anything..." She grimaced slightly. "But you need to know, so I'm just going to tell you."

A cold, empty feeling grew deep in Boyd's gut. He could barely remember the last time Erica had seemed so shaken. And she'd kept this to herself all day? Erica was the kind of person who blurted out everything on her mind, she never held _anything_ back. Boyd felt slightly sick.

Erica took a deep breath. "Last night, those girls we've been after showed up at Derek's loft," she said. Boyd's eyes went wide. Could Derek be— "He's fine, they didn't hurt him," she rushed to explain. Boyd breathed out. "They were there for his help. One of them... the oculus... she was hurt. The hunters got her, I think."

Boyd's brow furrowed. "Why would they go to Derek for help? That doesn't make any sense."

Erica glanced at the ground. "Well, it makes a lot more sense when you know that the werewolf girl is his little sister, Cora."

Boyd blinked. "His what? His sister? But she's... aren't both his sisters dead?"

"Apparently not anymore," Isaac said. "Derek's still looking in to how that's possible. He and Jackson were going to talk to Peter today."

Boyd ran a hand over his head, not sure how to take this. "Alright..." He said. "What's this got to do with me?"

Erica pursed her lips. "Well... the other girl. The oculus. She... says her name is Alicia." Erica said.

Boyd stared at her, not comprehending. "I'm sorry?"

"Cora told Derek that her name was Alicia Boyd." Erica repeated. "Your sister."

Boyd looked between Erica and Isaac. He almost asked if they were joking. But he knew neither of them would joke now, not about this. And even if he hadn't been sure of that, the grim looks on their faces would be enough to kill the possibility on its own.

After a moment, the two of them seemed to be waiting for Boyd to say something. What the hell could he say? Where did he even begin? He felt like he'd run head first into a brick wall. It all felt unreal. Like he was standing far away from the situation, watching himself as if he were another person. Another person he had no desire to be.

Boyd swallowed, and looked up at his friends. There was only one solid, concrete thought in his head and that was all he could think to say. "I have to see her."

* * *

Boyd had been eight years old, the last time he'd seen his little sister Alicia. She'd only been five. They were at the skating rink, which at the time had only been a five minute walk from their house. Since then they'd moved much farther away. Boyd used to have to take two buses every day to get there.

That day, it had just been the two of them. It was only the third time ever that their parents had let them go alone to the skating rink, and Boyd had felt very important. He was In Charge of Alicia. He was her Big Brother, and no matter what he would keep her safe. That was his job, to protect her, and he would not fail.

But of course, he had.

It had been busy that day, much more so than usual. They'd only been on the ice for twenty minutes before Boyd had gotten tired and wanted to get off. Too many people, they were moving along the ice at a snails pace. He'd wanted to leave... Alicia had asked him to stay. "Just five more minutes!"

" _Just five more minutes."_ That had been all she wanted. Just for him to stay for five more minutes... and he couldn't even do that. He'd told to skate by herself for a bit, and that he'd be watching her from the bench.

He'd been watching her for a few minutes, skating around, weaving in and out of the crowd. She'd wobble a little every now and then, but then steady herself. She never fell, not once.

He'd bent down to untie his skates, just looked away for a moment... and when he looked back up, she was gone. No trace of her anywhere. She was just not there. Just gone.

Every single day since then, he'd thought the same two questions to himself; was Alicia dead? Was it his fault?

And now... now she was back. He was going to see her again, talk to her. Could it be real? Part of him was sure it wasn't. That is was some imposter, some strange girl claiming to be his sister. Because it couldn't be her, couldn't be Alicia. For one, Alicia wasn't an oculus. She couldn't have been.

But then... there was something else there, wasn't there? A memory, something Boyd hadn't thought of in years.

It was a few weeks before she disappeared. One morning, Alicia had thrown a fit. Screaming and banging her fists against the walls. She's cried herself hoarse, pleading with their father over and over again for him not to go to work that day. At first her parents had tried to calm her down, insist that Daddy _had_ to go to work, he couldn't stay home. But Alicia continued to scream and scream, her little face turning deeper and deeper shades of red. They couldn't figure out _why_ she was so adamant that he couldn't go in, just that they couldn't get her to stop screaming.

Eventually, Boyd'd had to leave to go to school. But when he came home that day, his father was sitting with Alicia watching _The Jungle Book._ He hadn't gone in to work.

Later in the evening, it was all over the news. There had been a fire at their fathers office. Three people had died that day, and every one of them had worked on their Dad's floor.

At the time, it has seemed like a sort of miracle, that Alicia had happened to pitch a fit that day. That she'd begged him to stay home, and he hadn't been there to be caught in the fire. Looking back, Boyd wondered if perhaps it hadn't been a miracle at all. Had Alicia known about the fire? Seen it coming with a sense she couldn't explain?

Boyd had been reading up on oculuses, and he knew that typically their powers didn't become full strength until puberty. However, it was clear that in certain cases, some abilities would present themselves from a far younger age. The ability to see things others could not, the strange glowing in their eyes... In the Hale family beastiary, it described this occurrence as a "preview" of the power they would eventually come into. It was sporadic, and almost impossible to control.

Had that been what happened with Alicia? Had that day been a preview of the powers she would eventually get? Had there been similar instances when they were children, ones that Boyd couldn't recall?

Boyd was pulled out of his thoughts by a soft tap on his shoulder, from Erica. "It's our stop," she said quietly. Boyd nodded, and stood up.

They exited the bus, and began the short walk to Derek's loft. Every now and then Erica would glance at him, checking to see how he was doing, if he was mad at her...

In truth, he wasn't mad. He understood why she'd taken so long to tell him. It was a difficult bomb to drop on someone, that their long lost little sister was one of the murderers they were hunting.

They would talk later. He was reassure her that he wasn't mad, that they were fine and he understood her hesitation. But now... Now he could barely think. Barely hold himself together, let alone offer someone else reassurance. How could he tell her it was fine, when he was having trouble recalling what "fine" even felt like?

As they stepped into Derek's building, Erica took his hand in hers and squeezed. He looked at her, and she gave him a thin smile. Even if she thought he was mad at her, even if she was feeling guilty... She was here for him. He nodded, and looked to Isaac. Isaac pulled out his key and opened the door. He went through first.

"Derek...?" Isaac stopped quickly.

 _"Who are you?"_ Came the sharp reply. The voice was a girls.

Boyd caught two scents from inside the loft, neither Derek's nor Jackson's. They were both unfamiliar.

Slowly, he and Erica stepped inside. A girl was standing in front of Derek's bed, and Boyd could guess who she was. The werewolf girl. Derek's sister. Cora.

"Uh, I'm Isaac..." Isaac began. "I live here. Well, down the hall. I used to live _here_ but after Derek finished up the apartment down the hall it just made more sense for me to move in there..."

Cora didn't seem to be listening anymore. She was starring at Boyd. Boyd could feel her staring, but he was looking past her.

Alicia was lying in Derek's bed, asleep. Boyd had been unsure about whether he would recognize her, so many years later. If she would be a stranger, someone whose face meant nothing to him. But there was no denying that the girl in the bed was his little sister. She had changed so much in the past ten years, and yet at the same time it was almost shocking now little she'd changed. He could still see her as the child she'd been. Round faced and bright eyed, hair in two puffed up pig tails.

Suddenly his vision was blocked. Cora had walked up to him, and all but put her face to his. "Hey, I'm talking to you," she snapped. "What do you want?"

Boyd frowned. "What? I... I'm Alicia's brother." He said. The words felt odd in his mouth. _Alicia's brother._ It had been so many years since he'd been that.

Cora rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I know." She said. Boyd was getting the distinct impression she didn't like him, although he had no idea why. "What I don't know is what you're doing here."

Boyd stared at her, slightly stunned.

"What the hell do you think he's doing here?" Erica demanded, coming to Boyd's side. "He's here to see his sister. That's sort of obvious don't you think?"

Cora's lip curled and she looked Erica over. "Well, she's asleep so..." She shrugged.

Erica looked at Cora like she was insane. " _So?_ We can wake her up. Unless she's in a coma, it shouldn't be difficult."

"She needs _rest,"_ Cora replied. "She's _hurt!"_

"What happened to her?" Boyd asked.

Cora's eyes slid over to him. "Hunters." She said. "Got her with a wolfsbane arrow."

Isaac furrowed his brow. "But she's not a werewolf, right? Shouldn't she be fine?"

Cora looked like she wanted to tear his head off. "Yeah, she should be _fine,"_ she snapped. "Besides getting _shot_ with an arrow tipped with _poison."_

"I meant it shouldn't be fatal to her," Isaac retorted. "The way it would be to _us."_ He glared at her. "I mean, why even go after her with a wolfsbane arrow in the first place?"

Cora diverted her eyes. For a moment, her fury gave way to something else. Sadness, guilt. "They were aiming for me..." She said quietly. "Alicia got in the way." She looked back up, and anger took over once more. "Not that _you_ people would care."

Boyd frowned. "What? Of course we care. Of course _I_ care! Alicia's my sister. Why wouldn't I care?"

Cora shook her head, and seemed about to say something when a mummer from the bed caught her attention. "Cora...?"

In a swift motion, Cora was across the room, at Alicia's side. Alicia stirred in the bed, rubbing at her eyes. "What's..." She opened her eyes, and looked directly at Boyd. They stared at one another for a few seconds. Boyd felt he should say something. He wanted to open his mouth, wanted words to come out... but if he did, what the hell would he even say? _Long time, no see?_ Was he supposed to throw his arms over her and sob, tell her how much he had missed her every day for the last ten years?

"Hey, don't move...!" Cora fussed, trying to stop Alicia from pulling herself into a sitting position. The younger girl did it anyways, wincing as she struggled to sit upright. Her middle was wrapped with clean white bandages, and Boyd recognized the scents of healing herbs coming from her, which meant that Deaton had almost certainly been here. Apparently, Boyd was the last person in town to have found out Alicia was back.

Once Alicia had repositioned herself, and Cora moved some pillows behind her back to make her comfortable, she looked back to Boyd. "Hello, Vernon." She said. "Was there something you wanted?"

And then... something in Boyd's mind crashed into place. The memory from the other night that he'd been struggling to grasp. The voice he hadn't heard, but might have.

_...Get away from him..._   
_...Was there something you wanted..._   
_...Just five more minutes..._

Her voice. Different after ten years, so different... but hers. And he knew it had been her who had protected him that night. The reason why he was alive. She'd saved him.

Whoever was killing people in town, whatever was taking the brains of aberrants... it wasn't Alicia. The others thought it was, but he knew. She had protected him. And now, he was going to protect her.

And this time, he would not fail.


	19. Suspicion

* * *

"Trusting is hard.  
Knowing who to trust,  
even harder."  
―Maria V. Snyder, _Poison Study_

* * *

 

Stiles kept his hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie as he and Scott walked along the side walk. They had just come from Jessy's house, and Stiles was still troubled by what he'd seen in the basement window. While part of him knew it was probably nothing to worry about, he also knew that if he didn't look into it, it was just going to eat away at him until he went nuts.

"You're sure it's okay that I tag along with you, right?" Stiles asked. "I don't want to annoy your boss..."

Scott raised an eyebrow at him. "Since when do you care about whether you're annoying someone or not?" He teased. Stiles shoved him slightly, and Scott laughed. Truthfully, he _didn't_ really care about if he was annoying Deaton, he just didn't want to get Scott in trouble. It was easy to forget, but Deaton _was_ Scott's boss and he did technically have the power to fire him. Even if it was almost certain that he wouldn't, Stiles didn't want to push their luck. They tended to ask a lot of Deaton as it was.

"I told you, it's fine if you come in for a bit. Deaton likes you, he'll be cool with it." Scott continued.

Stiles stopped walking. "He does?"

Scott stopped as well, and shrugged. "Well, he likes me. And you're part of the package." He said simply.

"Aw, dude," Stiles said. Scott smiled, and shrugged again, and Stiles put his arm over Scott's shoulder.

When they made it to the veterinary clinic, they found Deaton in the middle of taking inventory of all of his supplies.

"Stiles's got some questions for you, if that's okay," Scott explained, setting down his things.

Deaton nodded, and looked up from the clipboard he was holding. "Stiles is more than welcome to stay," Deaton said. Stiles smiled. Maybe he did like him, after all- "we could use an extra pair of hands." He continued, handing them both clipboards. The smile slipped away. Maybe not.

Deaton explained the inventorying process to Stiles, and while it was very simple he also knew it was going to be very boring. This was the price of suspicion, he supposed.

"So..." Stiles began, as they began counting and marking down Deatons stores. "Those questions I've got..."

Deaton didn't look up from his clipboard. "Questions about what?"

"Well... " Stiles paused. "You're a Druid, right?" He asked. Deaton nodded. "How is that different from a witch, exactly? I mean, you both do magic don't you?"

Deaton lowered his clipboard, and seemed to consider the question. "Anyone can do magic, Stiles. With the right knowledge and spells... You don't need to be a witch, or a Druid." He began. "The difference is what powers the spells."

Stiles raised an eyebrow, not sure what he meant.

"Ingredients." Scott chimed in, "Spells need ingredients, right?"

"Exactly." Deaton said. "In most cases, to do a spell you need ingredients for the spell to draw its power from. You can't make something from nothing, after all."

"Right," Stiles said. "Kind of like the law of equivalent exchange. To gain something, you need to give something first."

Deaton looked surprised. "He's seen every episode of _Full Metal Alchemist,"_ Scott explained.

Deaton pursed his lips. "Right," he said, not looking at all like he knew what that was. "Now ingredients can be anything, depending on what kind of magic you're doing."

"Like plants and herbs, right?" Stiles said. When he, Allison and Lydia had dabbled with small bits of magic back when they were fighting the Hastings sisters, those were the sorts of ingredients they had used. At the time, Stiles had begun researching that sort of magic, using the database Deaton had provided, but he'd become side tracked by the thousands of other things he could learn about through the program. There was so much knowledge on that hard drive, so many interesting things to learn about, it was almost impossible to pick just one to focus on.

"Ingredients from nature are the most common." Deaton agreed. "That's called universal magic. But there's also rune magic, where spells draw their power from ancient runes and symbols, wreath magic, where spells are powered by secrets... and sacrificial magic, which I believe you've both had some experiences with."

Scott and Stiles looked at each other, and nodded. "The Hastings sisters," Stiles said. "That's how they became so strong, but sacrificing parts of themselves,"

"And their sister," Scott added.

Deaton nodded. "Sacrificial magic, and its cousin, blood magic... They're extremely powerful forms of magic. But they're also dangerous and unpredictable. The consequences of that type of magic can be terrible." He paused. "Some spells, older ones that were made before blood magic became the taboo it is today, often ask for the spellcasters blood as an ingredient. But you can use any part of your body and it will work just fine. Saliva, hair, nail clipping. It still carries a part of you that the spell needs, without having to draw blood." He said. Stiles nodded. "However," Deaton continued. "Always be wary of any spell that asks you to bleed for it."

* * *

 

After they finished taking inventory of Deaton's veterinary supplies, Stiles was less than elated to find out they still weren't finished. Apparently the clinic was also where he stored his Druid supplies as well. In the back of the clinic they found boxes and boxes of every herb and plant imaginable, vials of serums and tonics, and jars of things that Stiles wasn't sure he wanted to know the contents of.

"What is _Uronyo Chipembere_?" Scott asked, peering at the large jar of white powder Stiles was holding.

"Dude, don't ask—" Stiles muttered, turning the jar over in his hands.

"It's dried rhinoceros semen," Deaton replied, marking something down on his clipboard.

Stiles dropped the jar. Before it could smash to the floor, Scott's hand shot out and caught it mid air. He smiled, obviously pleased with his own reflexes. Stiles crossed his arms. "I told you not to ask." He looked over at Deaton. "Why the hell do you have jar of rhino spunk?"

"It's an extremely powerful ward against demons of the mind," Deaton explained. "Mixing some with rose water and applying it to your temples is a sure way protect against possession or manipulation."

"I think I'd prefer the demon," Stiles muttered.

Scott set the jar down, and marked down on his clipboard that they had one of them.

Stiles looked at Deaon. "You never answered my question. So everyone needs ingredients, how does that make a Druid different from a witch?"

Deaton looked up at him. "Everyone needs something to power their spells, and with the right ingredients, anyone can do magic. However, a Druid like myself, or another type of magic user will _always_ need to use ingredients. We draw power from them, and harness their energy for our spells." Deaton paused. "But a witch... most of their power, they draw from _themselves._ They're similar to werewolves in that sense. Their power comes from within, and from each other. That's why larger covens will have more powerful witches than smaller ones."

"So witches don't need to use ingredients?" Stiles asked.

"In some cases. There are still a lot of spells that require ingredients to pull off, and performing spells _without_ ingredients can take a lot out of a witch."

Stiles nodded. "So that's the only difference?"

"That, and a witch can practice any type of magic they'd like. Druids strictly practice universal magic. We draw our power from nature."

"You can't be a druid and practice any other type of magic?" Stiles questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"If you practice another type of magic, there's another name for what you are," Deaton said. "If you practice Wreath magic, you're a _Ceidar._ Rune magic makes you a _S_ _eith._ " He paused once more. "There are some Druids who strayed away from universal magic... and began practicing sacrificial magic. These people are called _Darachs._ "

Scott and Stiles exchanged looks. That didn't sound good.

"But why are you asking me all of this?" Deaton asked, setting down his clipboard and looking at Stiles. "Did you discover something?"

Stiles hesitated. "Not exactly. I just... I was curious about how this whole spell and ingredients thing goes. I mean, I was thinking you had to be a witch to do magic and junk, but obviously you do magic too so I just wanted to clarify, I guess."

"Everyone is capable of magic, Stiles. Some just use it in different ways," Deaton replied. "Take Scott, for example."

Scott looked surprised. "What? I don't... I can't do magic..."

"You can, and you do." Deaton told him. "Your ability to shape-shift, your heightened senses and reflexes, the way you draw strength and energy from the moon... what did you think that was?"

Scott shrugged. "I don't know..."

Deaton raised his eyebrows. "Magic. It's in all of us, though it rarely looks the same in anyone. Some people's magic shines more brightly in others, but it's always there."

Stiles snorted. "Right... no offence, but I've spent a lot of time with myself and I haven't seen anything remotely magical so..."

"Oh, you haven't?" Deaton asked. "Because I distinctly recall a time when you were able to bend mountain ash to your will."

"Well, that was..." Stiles floundered for a moment. "That was different. That was the mountain ash, not me. I didn't—I couldn't..." Stiles trailed off. He remembered that night well. The feeling of panic when he didn't have enough of the mountain ash, the horrible clenching in his gut when he thought he'd failed. More than anything he'd wanted to not to fail, to not let Scott down. To be able to help, for once... he'd just wanted to help. And then suddenly, it had worked. Suddenly, miraculously he'd had enough. At the time, he'd considered it himself succeeding, finally being able to do something right... but over time that feeling had faded. It had been the mountain ash that had succeeded, not Stiles.

Deaton was right about Scott. He had magic in him, and Stiles had always known that. But he didn't.

"What about the shared mind space spell you did to talk to Isbel Hastings?" Scott pointed out. "Or the binding spells you performed on Erica and Jackson, and then the exorcism type thing. You'd need magic for all of that."

"We had ingredients," Stiles reminded him. "Ingredients, and Lydia. That's where the magic came from."

"Ingredients are not magic by themselves, Stiles." Deaton said. "They're tools. If you pick up a hammer and build a house, who do you give credit to? Not the hammer, but the person wielding it."

Stiles frowned. "Right..." he muttered, not really believing Deaton at all. "But mountain ash... that sort of thing has a specific purpose right? You pick up mountain ash and there's only one thing you can do with it. Are there other ingredients like that?" He had side stepped around his main purpose for long enough, it was time to get what he'd came for.

Deaton stared at Stiles for a moment, as if debating whether or not he wanted to let this go. "All ingredients have purposes that they're intended for. They can be used in different ways to produce different effects, but they all have their purpose."

"So, if I told you that I found what I think are ingredients for a spell, just based on those ingredients you could tell me what sort of spell was being done?"

Deaton considered this. "I could take an educated guess," he said. "Why, what've you found?"

"Masterwort, and some kind of thorny plant. A rose stem maybe." Stiles said, describing what he and Boyd had seen in Jessy's basement.

Deaton pursed his lips. "That's a barrier spell of some kind, I'm sure." Deaton said.

"A barrier? Like to keep someone out?" Stiles questioned.

"It's hard to say. Their are different type of barrier spells. Without knowing a few more ingredients, it's hard to say what kind it is."

"Boyd was with me, and he said couldn't get any scents from inside the room we found the plants near. Does that tell you something?" Stiles pressed.

Deaton nodded. "That could mean it's a silencing barrier. Designed to turn a certain space into a sort of blackhole, practically invisible to the outside world."

Stiles frowned. Why would Jessy need a silencing barrier around her basement?

"That kind of barrier, it'd be used for keeping people out, right? Hiding something?"

"It could be used for that, yes." Deaton agreed. "It could also be used for protecting something, keeping something safe, out of harms way."

Stiles nodded. That was a good point. He had a tendency to jump immediately to the worst possible conclusion, but Jessy had earned the right to the benefit of the doubt.

"Stiles, what's this about?" Scott asked, looking him over. "Why do you need to know this stuff?"

Stiles hesitated. "Well, the silencing barrier is around Jessy's basement..." He said slowly.

Scott raised an eyebrow. "And you don't think that talking to Deaton about it might just be talking to the wrong person?"

Stiles frowned. "No, he seems like the best person to ask about this sort of thing..." Scott sighed and Stiles realized what he'd meant. "Oh. I should have been talking to Jessy about it. Right."

Scott nodded. "If you want to start something with her, a little trust is kind of important."

Stiles ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up. "Right, you're right..." He muttered.

Scott nodded once more, as if to say that was correct. "You have to approach these sorts of things head on." He advised. "Don't dance around the issue, just get everything out in the open."

* * *

 

Three blocks from Derek's loft, Jackson and Derek sat in Derek's car. They'd come back from Peter's, and had been sitting there talking for a good two hours already. "So then Lydia asked me if I'd ever heard of a _daribus,_ which is a creature similar to a succubus, that preys on unfaithful men. And she looks up at me and says 'guess what organ _they_ eat?'"

Jackson pressed his lips together, trying to keep from laughing. Derek frowned. "It's not funny, Jackson."

Jackson shrugged. "It's kind of funny. I mean, yikes..."

Derek shook his head. "I guess she'll just always hate me, huh?"

Jackson hesitated. "She doesn't _hate_ you," he said, honestly. "She just... I mean you will always be the guy I cheated on her with, and left her for. I know she wants to like you, but you have to know that's going to be difficult."

Derek nodded, and stared out the windshield. "Do you think we should try getting a block closer?" He asked quietly.

"We could... Or we could just go back and talk to them." Jackson suggested. Derek turned sharply and looked at him. "Or not."

With a deep sigh, Derek started the car. "Alright, let's go." He muttered. "We've procrastinated long enough."

"Are you sure?" Jackson asked, buckling his seat belt again. "We could always go back to my house and take some time to... de-stress, before dealing with this." He said, sliding his hand over Derek's shoulder.

Derek raised his eyebrow. "Haven't we talked about not using sex to avoid dealing with problems?"

"In regards to me, we have," Jackson clarified. "Not in regards to _you."_

"It's probably not a habit I should get into," he said, pulling the car back into the street.

While Jackson agreed about that, he was still worried about how this was going to go for Derek. His sister potentially back from the grave, murdering people like them and now crashing in his apartment... it was a lot to handle, and Jackson wasn't sure he was mentally equipped to be helping Derek deal with it. Maybe he should set up an appointment for Derek with Dr. Kaya...

They drove slowly back to the loft, and Jackson realized as they got closer that he was straining his ears to hear what was going in the loft. We're the girls plotting their next murder, or just sitting back and watching a new episode of _Orange Is The New Black_ on Netflix? If it was either or, Jackson didn't know because he couldn't hear a thing. Judging by the troubled look on his face, Jackson thought Derek was experiencing the same thing.

It wasn't until they were actually back in the loft, looking at the empty space that Jackson was able to admit the obvious; the girls were no longer there. They'd made the bed and taken the healing supplies Deaton had left with them. The only evidence that they'd been there at all was in the strong stench of the bleach Derek had used to clean up Alicia's blood from the floor.

Derek stared at his empty loft, and Jackson knew that was worse than any other scenario he could have imagined.

He put his hand on his boyfriends shoulder, and having no words to comfort with him with, said "I'm going to make some tea."

Derek nodded, and crashed down on the couch. He put his head in his hands for a moment. A fit of rage seemed to come over him, and he violently shoved all off books and papers that were sitting on the coffee table onto the floor. Breathing heavily, Derek looked down at the mess he'd made. He glanced up at Jackson, and back down the papers and books. Then he knelt down and began to clean everything up again.

Jackson went over and helped him, and in a few minutes everything was back in its original position. Jackson went to go back to the kettle, but Derek pulled him back by his arm. He tugged Jackson close and pressed a hard, desperate kiss against his mouth. "Do you remember earlier, when I said I didn't want to make a habit out of using sex to avoid my problems?" He asked roughly.

Jackson nodded.

Derek swallowed, and his eyes roamed over Jacksons face and landed on his mouth. "I lied."

So although Jackson knew it was not the right thing to do, knew that in the long run it would not help Derek in the least, for now it was all he could do. And even if it wasn't right, and it would solve nothing, didn't Derek deserve something good, and sweet and easy? Didn't he deserve even the temporary, ephemeral comfort of Jackson's arms? And maybe the twining of their bodies and the caresses of their mouths against the others skin would solve nothing, change nothing... But for now, it was all the good they had.

But Jackson knew it was not enough. Not anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I know. I'm awful. I promise I'm going to be attempting to write more going forward, but attempting is the best I can do. However I do actually have an outline for the next few chapters, so they should be slightly easier to write... 
> 
> Again, my deepest apologies for being so wishy washy with my updates.


	20. In the Quiet Morning

* * *

"The moon on the one hand, the dawn on the other:  
The moon is my sister, the dawn is my brother.  
The moon on my left and the dawn on my right.  
My brother, good morning: my sister, good night."  
— _The Early Morning,_ Hilaire Belloc

* * *

 

It was early in the morning as Isaac walked to the bus stop, already on the phone with Boyd, who was on his own walk to the bus. They were both heading in early for the first meet up of the track team, which Coach had declared was mandatory for all lacrosse members to join, to avoid them getting soft and lumpy. Track had been planned to start immediately, but Coach had twisted his ankle at the end of the summer and delayed its start. Another teacher, Mr. Brinkley, had attempted to set up a track meet in Coach's absence... And not a single person had shown up. Isaac felt bad for the guy (but also had not shown up himself). Mr. Brinkley just didn't command respect.

"You could tell your parents that without a car, you have to use your werewolf speed to get everywhere." Isaac suggested, approaching the bus stop. "They wouldn't want you werewolfing more than necessary right? And then bam, you've got a car."

"I'm not sure that would work," Boyd said. "First of all, they know I bus most places. I don't werewolf my way around town."

"Well... you could start? Save on bus fare while you're at it."

"What about you?" Boyd asked. "You could run to Canada and back and Derek wouldn't care."

Isaac considered this. "I could fake my death... And you could go to him, be like 'oh the tragedy of it! If only he'd had a car, he might have been able to get away from his attacker!' Then I come back from the dead, and Derek is so happy to see me that he immediately gives me a Lexus."

Boyd was quiet for a moment. "You know his sister may have just _literally_ come back from the dead, right? I don't think we should be springing that on Derek right now."

Isaac paused. Of course, that had been a stupid thing to say. Derek _and_ Boyd had both had sisters return from the dead, and Isaac knew how much it was messing with their heads. Boyd's meeting with his sister a few days prior had not gone at all well. They'd barely had a moment to talk before Cora had kicked them out. And shortly after that, both girls had fled the loft.

"You have a good point, my friend. I-" a noise came from behind him.

Hair standing on the back of his neck, he swivelled around and was met with a fist breaking his nose. Crying out, Isaac dropped his phone and clutched his nose. A second later a kick to his gut sent him doubling over, sputtering as blood from his nose got into his mouth. He shoved blindly at his attacker and managed to push them away... But there was another behind him. They grabbed his arms and held them behind his back, and he got his first clear look at who had jumped him: Alicia was standing in front of him, smiling cruelly. However injured she'd been just a few days before, she seemed perfectly fine now. Behind him, Cora held his arms.

"Hey wolfboy," Alicia taunted. "How's your morning?"

"Uh, alright, considering," Isaac gurgled through the blood.

Alicia smiled, and hit him again in the stomach. Isaac doubled over once more. "Why?" He choked.

"Don't worry, puppy," Cora all but cooed. "We're not here for the goods yet. We just want to send a message." She shoved him to the ground and kicked him, knocking the air out of his lungs. They were strong, both of them, much stronger than him. As they beat him he struggled to lift himself up, to fight back. He refused to lay on the ground and be beaten like this, refused to be anyone's punching bag. Not now, not ever again.

With a fierce roar, Isaac shot up, shoving the girls aside. Cora fell to the ground, and he elbowed Alicia in the face, but she just smiled. Before she could grab him again, she was struck by a car which veered onto the sidewalk: a Porsche.

"Get in!" Jackson cried, throwing open the passenger side door. From the ground, Cora grabbed at him, but Isaac was already throwing himself into the car. He slammed the door shut and Jackson sped off. Isaacs heart was pounding in his chest, and he felt ill. That had been too close.

Isaac wiped at his nose, smearing blood across his hand. Blood dripped down onto the leather seats of the car, and Isaac winced. "Shit, Jackson I'm sorry."

Jackson glanced at him, still speeding down the street. "What?"

"I got blood on your seat," he said, feeling terrible. He knew how protective Jackson was of his upholstery.

Jackson looked at him like he was crazy. "Isaac, _are you alright?_ " He asked. "Are you healing, or should we go see Deaton or Derek? Did they break anything?"

Isaac blinked, somewhat surprised at Jackson's sincere concern. Then he immediately felt bad, for thinking so little of Jackson. They were pack, of course he'd be concerned. Jackson cared about him, he knew that. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said. "Everything's already healing." His nose finally stopped bleeding, and he could feel the pain disappearing as everything healed itself.

Jackson nodded, looking relieved. "Good." He said. "What the hell happened back there?"

"No idea," Isaac said, shrugging. "I mean, I knew they were hunting us but... I don't know, I guess I kind of thought that after they went to Derek for help that we might have some kind of truce or something." That had been stupid to think. "If you hadn't shown up..."

"Why did you leave so early, anyways?" Jackson asked. "I was there, we could have gone together."

Isaac looked out the window. "Uh, track starts today..." he said. He glanced at Jackson, not sure how he would feel about that.

"I thought Coach broke his ankle?"

"Yeah, but he's back now and he told Scott and Stiles and me and Boyd to be ready to go first thing this morning."

A frown appeared on Jackson's face. "Why didn't he tell me?"

Isaac raised an eyebrow. "Well, you haven't been doing lacrosse or track since tenth grade. And you quit kind of abruptly back then."

"Right..." Jackson said, quietly. "I wanted to rejoin this year though." He said. Isaac could tell he was trying to sound casual about it, but he knew that was a big deal for Jackson. "I kind of... miss it."

"Really?" Isaac questioned. Jackson nodded. "You know Scott is team captain, right? You gonna be alright with that?"

Jackson breathed out through his nose. "Why does everyone think I have it out for McCall?" He muttered.

Isaac raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? Because you _did._ For like, a good while. I mean, on more than one occasion you've described him as your _arch nemesis._ " Jackson waved his hand, as if to say that wasn't important. "Well, if you want to come back, that's great." He smiled. "I almost feel sorry for the other teams."

Jackson glanced at him, and cringed slightly. The smile slipped from Isaac's face. "What?" He asked.

"Uh... your nose. It sort of healed... wrong." Jackson said.

Isaac's brow furrowed, and he pulled down the visor to look in the mirror. He grimaced. Besides being covered in blood, which was unsightly in itself, his nose was a distinctly different shape than it had been before.

"Maybe we should go to Deaton..." Jackson began. "That is not a good look."

Shaking his head, Isaac closed the visor. "Scott can fix it." Deaton had been training Scott to deal with their injuries for a while now, and while we still wasn't on Deaton's level, he was getting good at resetting bones. "Let's just get to school. I'll feel better once we're in a crowd."

* * *

At school, Isaac and Jackson met up with Scott, Stiles and Boyd in the locker room. They explained what had happened to them, while Isaac cleaned the blood off himself. The other guys in the locker room kept their distance.

"If Jackson hadn't shown up, there's a good chance I'd be dead," Isaac finished. He glanced at Boyd, who'd remained stony faced throughout his whole explanation. He'd left out the part where Jackson had hit Alicia with his car, in the hopes of not upsetting him more than necessary, but it didn't seem to have worked.

"Not necessarily," Stiles said, thoughtfully tapping his chin. "You said Cora told you they 'weren't here for the goods yet' and that they wanted to send a message. That doesn't sound like they were planning to kill you."

"Oh, well in that case, Jackson how dare you have interrupted," Isaac drawled.

Stiles glared. "I'm just saying, it's an unusual circumstance. This isn't their usual M.O."

"What kind of message were they trying to send, do you think?" Scott wondered.

"And who was it for?" Stiles followed up. He glanced at Scott. "Derek, maybe?"

Jackson scoffed. "Saying what? 'Hey thanks for helping us out, here's a broken member of your pack?'"

"Well... is Derek planning on trying to find Cora? Going after her?" Scott asked.

"What do you think?" Jackson retorted. "If you knew _your_ long lost sister was out there, would you just let it go?" Jackson paused, and they all glanced at Boyd. He remained silent.

"Maybe the message was 'don't follow me' then." Stiles suggested, after a moment had passed.

"It's possible," Scott agreed.

" _Dude, what the fuck happened to your face!?"_

They all turned around, to find some freshman staring at Isaac's badly healed nose and bloody shirt. Evidently he had not sensed the _"stay the fuck away"_ vibe they'd been trying to put out. Isaac frowned, and looked at Scott.

"He has a point," Isaac said. "I can't stay like this all day."

Scott nodded. "Want me to count down?" He asked.

Isaac shook his head. "Just do it."

Scott stepped up to him and put his hand on his nose. His paused for a moment, then then snapped the bone, breaking it again. Isaac grunted loudly, but was able to keep from screaming like a baby in front of everyone. He gritted his teeth as Scott went about resetting his nose, so that when it healed again it would do so properly.

When Scott pulled away, the inquisitive freshman was nowhere to be seen. Isaac felt a little pleased. "Now what do I do about this?" He mumbled, pulling at his blood stained shirt.

"Alright, alright, what in Nike's name is going on in here?" Coach Finstock asked as he stepped into the locker room. He looked around at him. "Who made McCormick cry this time? Stilinski?"

Stiles made a noise of protest. "What makes you think it was me?" He asked, sounding offended.

The Coach raised an eyebrow. "Because when something happens, it's usually you."

Stiles mouth opened slightly, but before he could continue to defend himself, Coach spotted Isaac. "Lahey, what the hell happened to you?" He asked, rushing over. Isaac was glad that his nose was fixed, although he still had to explain the blood on his shirt.

"Uh, nosebleed," Isaac mumbled, looking away. "It's fine, just a fluke thing..." He glanced back up, and saw Finstock frowning deeply at him, a troubled look in his eyes. He new he had not bought it.

Finstock put a hand on Isaac's shoulder, and led him away from the group. "A nosebleed, Lahey?" He asked quietly. "It's been a while since I heard that one from you..." Isaac looked away again, feeling strangely ashamed. "Look, is everything alright with you? How's your living situation, is that still good?"

Isaac nodded, wanting nothing more than to pull away and go back to dealing with the bloodthirsty girls that wanted them all dead. He'd almost been killed this morning, and somehow this felt much worse. "My living situation is fine, I swear I just got a nosebleed this time."

Finstock looked him over, a look on his face that suggested he wanted to say something else, but was refraining. "I have a shirt you could borrow in my office," he said eventually. "Come on." Walking into the Coach's office, Isaac passed by the kid who had ratted him out, hiding behind the wall. Isaac bared his teeth at him, and resisted the urge to flash his yellow eyes. The kid yelped slightly, and ran off.

After a few minutes of digging in his filing cabinet, Coach pulled out a plain white t-shirt and handed it to Isaac. "I keep a few changes of clothes in here," Coach explained. "For the nights when I sleep in my office, but don't want anyone to know I've slept in my office." He frowned. "Don't tell anyone I sleep in my office."

Isaac nodded. "I won't," he said. "Thanks, Coach." He said, holding up the shirt. He turned to leave, but Finstock began to say something.

"Lahey... you know that if you ever need anything..." He began, trailing off mid sentence. Isaac shifted around uncomfortably on his feet. Coach floundered. "Right." He said, having not completed his thought.

Isaac nodded, not entirely sure what to do with the half completed sentiment. "Right..." He turned to step out again, and again heard Finstock hesitate. Isaac sighed and turned around once more. He raised his eyebrows.

"You know where my office is, right Lahey?" Coach asked. Isaac frowned. Obviously he did, they were standing in it now. Coach stared at him, and after a moment Isaac understood what he was saying. _If you ever need anything, you know where my office is._

Isaac nodded. "Yeah." He said.

Coach nodded back at him. "Well... then I'll see you outside," he said. He turned away, and Isaac supposed he was finally being dismissed.

He walked back to the others, feeling slightly awkward, as he knew that would have heard all that. He anticipated smirks and side-long glances, jokes about how the Coach _looooved_ him or some other bullshit. He was greeted with none of that.

"It's good that he's looking out for you like that," Jackson said, nodding approvingly. "I know he's a funny guy, but that's really decent of him."

"Yeah, Coach is... he's decent," Isaac said, looking uncomfortably at the ground. He had a strange feeling in his gut, a mix of emotion. Part of him felt pleased to be cared about, happy that someone was concerned about his well being. Other parts felt embarrassed, hated the thought of being pitied, of someone feeling they needed to look after him like a child. He was not a weak, fragile thing that needed coddling. Did others think that because of what his Dad had done to him, it made him weak? He wasn't, and he never had been. He wouldn't allow people to think that.

Isaac pulled off his shirt and changed into his gym clothes, trying to clear his head. He was likely reading too much into the Coach's concern, as concern was probably all it was. Someone being worried about him didn't mean they thought he was weak, he reminded himself.

Following his lead, the others changed for track as well. In the silence, Isaac picked up something he hadn't noticed before: a bitter smell, furious and afraid at the same time. He looked around, trying to pinpoint the source of it, but in the crowded, sweaty locker room it was difficult to tell.

It was only as they made their way out of the locker room and into the fresh air that Isaac realized it was coming from Boyd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, updating two weeks in a row. That's a bit better, right? Yeah? Maybe? 
> 
> OK questions (which I have totally forgotten about for the last several updates)
> 
> 1) I believe this is the first Isaac POV chapter. How was his voice? Any tweaks or suggestions?  
> 2) Do you feel there are too many plot lines currently going on in this story? Is it difficult to   
> keep up with? Would a summary before each chapter help? Sort of a LAST WEEK ON type deal?  
> 3) A few OCs have popped up in this story, have any of them stood out to you (in either a positive or negative manner?)


	21. Wounds

* * *

Sometimes,  
I still can’t believe it. That you happened

and I happened and this was the best we could  
do. Our nest of rubbish, our flowerless

garden—we slept here. Made love among  
the bottle caps and ants and mold.

— Sierra DeMulder, _Uninhabitable_

* * *

 

_PREVIOUSLY ON “TOO MUCH PLOT/NOT ENOUGH BUTT SEX”_

_Isaac was attacked by Cora and Alicia, who began_ _to beat the crap out of him before Jackson arrived and saved him. They went to school and discussed what happened in the locker room, where Boyd appeared to be in a very sour mood._

_Stiles saw some weird herbs in Jessy's basement window, and discovered that might mean she had a barrier spell set up._

_Allison's cousin Catherine began to stay in Allison's room, while Allison slept at Lydia's_. 

* * *

 

Isaac wasn't the only one to notice Boyd's foul mood, but throughout the day not a single person was able to get anything out of him. No amount of empathizing, cajoling, annoying or demanding was able to illicit any response longer than three or four words. By the end of the day, Jackson and Isaac had given up trying to talk to him. While Erica let it go for the time being, she decided to bide her time until she could get him alone. Then she would turn him upside and shake it out of him if she had to.

When school was out, everyone set off to Derek's loft to discuss the attack against Isaac.

“It's just weird, isn't it?” Stiles started off, falling back on the couch next to Scott. “I mean, every other attack always had the same things in common. They paralyzed their victim, scooped out their brains... they never just beat them up.”

“They did once,” Lydia pointed out. She was seated at the kitchen counter, and was absently doodling in a notebook. When Jackson looked over he saw the page covered with crescent moons. Jackson thought that was odd, since they now knew the meaning of the crescent moons: Cora and Alicia both wore that symbol on their neck. Typically, once Lydia was able to discover the meaning being one of her drawings, she went on to drawing something else. “Jessy.”

Stiles frowned. “What about Jessy?” He asked, sounding slightly defensive.

Isaac nodded. “Yeah, Lydia's right. When we found her, she wasn't paralyzed and she was bleeding from her head. She seemed so freaked out that night, we never really asked her what went down, we just figured she got away somehow.”

“But you think there's something else going on?” Scott questioned.

Lydia shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe they had the same motive, when they went after Isaac and Jessy. We should talk to her, find out more information. If there's a connection between Jessy and Isaac, maybe we can learn something.”

“I'll talk to her,” Stiles volunteered. “She trusts me...” He scratched his head. “Besides I've been meaning to talk to her about a few things anyways.”

As the others continued their discussion of what had happened that morning, Jackson looked over to Derek. He seemed tense, and the frown on his face was deeper than usual. Moving closer to him, Jackson tried to think of something to say that might hold some comfort for him. Nothing came to mind. Feeling useless, Jackson snaked his arm around Derek's waist and pulled him close. Derek put his arm over Jackson's shoulder, and pressed a quick kiss against his temple.

* * *

In the back of her closet, behind the racks of clothes and shoes that seemed to have doubled in volume of the last few years, Allison kept a solid wooden crate, filled with weapons. While her father kept most of their weapons in what had originally been designated the “guest room” of their apartment, Allison had a fair of amount of mostly melee weapons that she kept herself. Looking carefully through the crate, Allison tried to decide which ones she would use tonight.

“I know, it's even harder than choosing an outfit, right?”

Allison looked over, and saw Catherine leaning against the frame of her door. She smiled, and brushed a piece of hair off her face. “I just want to be prepared,” she explained.

Catherine nodded, walking into the room. She took a seat on Allison's bed, which for the past few weeks had been hers. “Your Dad tells me you and your friends go out patrolling almost every night,” she commented. “Looking for something specific?”

Allison shook her head, and turned back to her crate of weapons. “No, just... trying to help out however we can,” she said.

“Well, be careful, it's dangerous with those girls out there.” Catherine warned. “Although, based on the pattern we've put together, you should be safe...”

Allison's hand paused on the hilt of a dagger. “Oh? What pattern?” She asked, trying to sound casual.

Catherine was quiet for a moment. “Well... I'm not really supposed to be telling you this, but you're one of us so...” She said. “So far, all of the victims have been supernatural. Not a single human has been killed.”

Allison looked to her cousin. “You've been following these girls for a while... is that their usual M.O?”

“I haven't, actually, been following them for a while. Viola and a few of the others were dealing with tracking those girls, I didn't even know about them until we came over here. For some reason Viola wanted as many of us as she could get. But from what I've learned, this is pretty par for the course. Those girls have a long history of hunting the supernatural.” Catherine frowned. “Although something is... different.”

Allison raised her eyebrows. “What's that?”

Catherine hesitated. “It's just, the bodies... I don't know, they're off. I've tried talking about to Viola, but she keeps brushing it off like it's nothing.” She seemed bothered by this.

“What's off about the bodies?”

Catherine looked up, and raised an eyebrow. “You're awfully interested in this, hmmm?”

Allison snapped her eyes back to her weapons. “Uh, no, I just—”

“Allison, I get it,” Catherine said quietly. “This is your town, and you've been protecting the people in it for years. Of course you want to know about these girls. Hell, you and your friends were probably on their trail before we were.” Allison glanced over, and said nothing. “I thought so. But you're just kids, you can't handle this alone. Not without our help.”

Catherine stood up. “I'm going to set up a meeting with you and Viola. She knows a hell of a lot more about these girls than I do. She can tell you what you want to know.”

Allison opened her mouth, to tell her that wasn't necessary. But then, why shouldn't she learn everything she could about Cora and Alicia's past? Maybe Viola could tell her how Cora had survived the fire, or why Alicia had disappeared. She smiled. “Thanks, that would be great.”

Catherine returned her smile. “Good luck tonight,” she said, walking over to the weapons crate. She picked up an FS fighting knife and handed it to Allison. “Use this. Can't go wrong.” She advised.

Allison nodded, and took the knife from her.

* * *

 

Jackson lay resting against Derek's chest. It had been a few hours since the others had left, and Isaac had retreated to his own apartment, and they'd spent the entire time since in bed. Jackson had been planning to talk to him, to discuss how he felt about his sister attacking Isaac, and his feeling in general... but then Derek had pulled him close and kissed him... told him he needed him... and Jackson had forgotten all about words and talking and feelings. He had forgotten everything but Derek, and hoped that for those few hours, Derek would forget everything but him.

Running his hand over the hard lines of Derek's chest, Jackson looked up at him and saw Derek staring at the ceiling. “What are you thinking about?” Jackson asked quietly.

Derek remained silent for a moment. “I'm trying not to think about anything,” he replied. Glancing down at Jackson, Derek gave him a small smile. “Think you could help me with that?” He ran his hand down Jackson's back, and leaned in and pressed their mouths together.  
With difficulty, Jackson pulled away and tried to ignore the surprised and slightly hurt look on Derek's face. “Derek... we can't.” He said. “We're... falling back into old patterns. Bad old patterns,” he told him. Derek looked away. “I know what it's like, to want to get away from your problems. To want to lose yourself in someone else, and forget all that pain and fear, even just for a little while. But we can't do that. It's not healthy.” He placed his hand against Derek's cheek, and turned his face back towards him. “It's easy to get lost, Derek. It's not so easy to find your way back.”

Derek looked at him, and Jackson could see pain in his eyes. “What if Peter was right?” Derek asked, his voice low. Jackson raised an eyebrow. “What if she didn't come back from the dead, what if she just... never died. That's more likely, right? That she survived the fire somehow...”

“I guess,” Jackson said, not certain where Derek was headed with this. “It makes sense.”

Derek shook his head. “All this time...” There was a deep bitterness in Derek's voice. “All these fucking years, and she was out there on her own. And I never looked for her. Not once.”

“You didn't know,” Jackson reminded him. “You thought she was dead.”

“I should have known!” Derek snapped. “Somehow, Laura and I should have known. We—we should have sensed it, or just—” Derek broke off, and squeezed his eyes shut. “Our baby sister, and we just left her all alone.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It's my fault all this is happening. All these people dying... it's my fault.”

“It's not your fault! Derek you couldn't have know. You're not psychic, and you're not responsible for what she's doing.”

Derek looked at him, and his eyes were red-rimmed. “If she'd grown up with me and Laura... if we'd been together, been a family... she wouldn't be doing this now. Something happened to her Jackson, to make her do these things. She wouldn't be doing it otherwise.”

Jackson looked Derek in the eye, and tried to keep his voice even. “Derek, you can't take this all onto yourself. Whatever happened to Cora, whatever she went through to make her this way, it's not your fault. What she's doing isn't your fault. You can't blame yourself.”

Derek looked away. “Why not?” he muttered.

“Because it'll destroy you, if you let it.”

Jackson saw Derek's jaw clench. After a moment of silence turned back and locked eyes with Jackson. “Then maybe that's what I deserve.

* * *

 

Despite the lateness of the hour, Allison was surprised to find a few people still out on the streets, milling around on street corners, laughing with their friends. “Must have been a party somewhere nearby,” Allison mused. “In this area, most people are usually in bed by now.”

Beside her, Erica raised an eyebrow. “A party?” She repeated. “And they didn't invite us?” She shook her head. “Rude.”

Allison smiled. “Well, we're too cool for them anyways,” She said.

Erica grinned back at her. “Yeah, nothing says cool like staying out late on a school night to hunt monsters.”

Both girls chuckled softly, and rounded the corner. There were less people on the next street over, and soon they were walking alone. The emptiness made Allison feel nervous. There had been a certain comfort in having others around, although she knew that if any of them were aberrants they'd be in danger.

Allison glanced at Erica, eager to distract herself from her nerves with conversation. “Did you ever find out what was up with Boyd today? He didn't seem like himself.”

Running her fingers through her hair, Erica sighed. “I never got anything out of him, but if I had to take a guess it would be that the sudden reappearance of his long lost sister is messing with his head a bit. I mean, I know he's been holding out hope all these years that one day they'd find her... but I have to guess this isn't exactly what he was hoping for, you know? I mean, what with her being a brain-eating serial killer and all.”

Allison bit her lip. “...We don't know that they're eating the brains...” she said quietly.

“No, we don't know that,” Erica agreed, in a tone that implied she certainly thought they were.

Allison pursed her lips, and said nothing. She turned away from Erica and shivered slightly. Suddenly she had a strange sense, one she couldn't quite place. At the same moment as her, Erica shivered as well. Allison looked at her, and saw her frowning.

"What?" Allison asked. If she had an odd sense, then it was likely that Erica, whose senses were much more powerful and honed, would be able to tell her why. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure..." Erica mumbled. She peered into the shadowy alleyway across from them. "I have this feeling.... Like we're being watched. And I thought I heard someone but there's no one here now."

"Do you want to check it out, just in case?" Allison asked, reaching for her bow.

"Yeah, maybe..." She took a step towards the alley, but then her head snapped to the side. "I heard something," she said sharply. Allison had drawn her bow and notched an arrow before Erica had even completed her sentence. "Around the corner. It's them."

"Get ready," Allison said, stepping forward.

Erica nodded. Her shoulders jerked up and her head tilted to the side, an action Allison had witnessed Derek perform countless times. Her eyes began to glow a bright gold hue as she shifted, claws and fangs emerging as her features distorted and hair sprouted on her face. Once Erica was fully shifted, they stepped around the corner to meet their enemies.

Allison paused. Nothing there. Just the empty street, and flickering street light. Allison frowned, and glanced at Erica, wondering if she could have been mistaken.

There was hissing noise from behind them, and Erica and Allison whipped around and found Cora and Alicia standing in the street. Alicia grinned, and Allison felt unnerved. She had never seen the girl smile before. Somehow it did not suit her features.

Allison fired her bow and Erica roared as both girls lunged forward, both moving faster than Allison had ever seen. They tackled Erica to the ground, and Allison fired two quick shots at them. Both arrows landed in either girls shoulders, but it was not until the arrows exploded that they reacted. Cora's shoulder was taken clean off, leaving a gruesome bloody wound in its place. Alicia had faired slightly better, but was still clearly wounded. Cora crumbled to the ground, howling in pain while Alicia took a moment to glare at Allison, before turning back to Erica. There was another hissing noise as Alicia leaned over her, but Erica moved quickly out from under her, slashing at her throat with her claws as she moved. Alicia choked and grabbed her neck, blooding spurting between her fingers.

Cora, already starting to heal, was up and went after Erica again, grabbing her by her hair. Erica snarled and tried to fight her off. Allison saw Cora's fangs grow, and she unsheathed her knife and threw it with full force at Cora's face. Cora was knocked backwards as the knife hit her face, sinking into the flesh below her eye. For a moment Allison's breath caught in her throat. As Cora fell back, her claws raked Erica's face. Erica screamed and staggered backwards for a moment, before rounding on Cora—who was down for the moment but in the midst of picking herself back up. Both girls were obviously ready to continue the fight. Erica was bleeding badly, clearly wounding but showing no signs of slowing down. Allison looked between Erica and their enemies, and then grabbed Erica by the shoulder and signalled that they should run. The two of them took off down the street. Allison ran as fast as she could, and went until she couldn't run anymore.

Several blocks away, Erica stopped her. "They're not following us." She said. "Take a moment."

"Are you... Alright...?" Allison panted, trying to pretend she was less winded than she was.

"I'm fine." Erica said, turning away. "Why'd you tap out, we could have taken them!"

Allison looked Erica over, taking in the blood on her clothes and the scratches on her face that had just begun to heal. "You're hurt...." She said plainly. That seemed reason enough to retreat.

Evidently Erica did not agree. "I'll heal," she said, her voice curt.

Allison shook her head. "They would have killed you, if they'd had the chance."

"And you would have killed them." Erica replied. Allison glanced down. She couldn't pretend that wasn't part of it. Maybe if she'd been with anyone but Erica she would have denied it, ignored it. But after what she had done to her in the 10th grade, it was impossible to pretend. “Allison, it's okay. Don't make it a big thing.”

Allison glanced back up, surprised to hear what sounded like sympathy from Erica of all people. “What?”

Erica shifted her shoulders slightly, massaging a wound on her shoulder as it healed. “Yeah, you would have killed them if you hadn't run, and that freaked you out. But I know what it's like to have something inside of you that's... dangerous. And I know how scary it is when that gets out of control. But when it comes to these girls, we can't hold back. I mean, I doubt they'd show us the same courtesy.”

“Are you saying we should have killed them?” Allison questioned. She had a hard time believing Erica would just take down Boyd's sister so easily.

Erica hesitated. “I don't know,” she admitted. “I mean, Boyd...” she shook her head. Allison could tell she didn't really know what to think about their situation either. “I don't know what to do,” she said after a moment. “But if we're in a situation where it's us or them, well... I know who I'd choose.”

Allison nodded. That seemed a good way to phrase it. Maybe killing them wasn't the right thing to do, and if they could avoid it, she would—if not for the sake of Boyd and Derek, then for the sake of herself— but she would not let her friends die for the lives of two murderers.

* * *

It was past four in the morning, but neither Derek nor Jackson was asleep. Jackson was sitting back against the headboard of Derek's bed, and Derek was lying between his legs, head resting against his chest. Jackson ran his fingers through Derek's hair, smiling at the way it was now sticking up in all directions on his head.

“I never told you this, but I know almost every single word to the Mamma Mia! soundtrack.” Derek said in a solemn voice. Jackson laughed. “No, really. I do. She used to listen to it every single day, for hours on end. And she'd dance around the living room, singing along and twirling around the room. Sometimes she'd bring a bunch of chairs in and sit us all down in them, and perform the whole thing for us.”

For the last two hours, they had talked of nothing but Cora. Mostly, the person she had been, when Derek had known her long ago. The sweet, funny little girl she'd been back before Kate Argent had come along and burned all of the good things out Derek's life. And somehow, Cora had gotten lost amongst all the fire and horror. That sweet little girl had slipped through the cracks, and no one knew how. Where had she gone, what had happened to her? After so many years, why was she just reappearing now?

“Mmm, I still don't believe that you know all the words to every song,” Jackson said.

“Believe it or not, it's true.”

“Prove it then.” Jackson dared, a small smirk on his face.

Derek opened his mouth and then closed it, frowning. “There's no way I'm going to fall for that, Jackson. Sorry.”

“Fall for what? I have a completely scientific curiosity in whether or not you can sing all of the songs from Mamma Mia!”

"You're not going to get me to sing, so stop trying. It won't work."

"Aw, come on. Here, I'll start you off... 'Mamma Mia, here I go again...'" Jackson recited. He prodded Derek's shoulder, looking expectantly at him. "Come on, you know the rest."

"I do," Derek agreed. He stared unflinchingly back at Jackson and said nothing more.

A few moments passed and Jackson signed. Clearly, Derek was a brick wall. Nothing short of death and dismemberment could crack him. "Fine, don't sing it. But just so you know, you've denied me a lot of happiness right now."

Derek shrugged. "Seems to be what I'm best at." He said. "Derek Hale, bringing misery and destruction wherever he goes."

Jackson rolled his eyes. "Yes, clearly I am incredibly miserable with you. The suffering is just endless, really." Derek frowned, which was not the response Jackson had been trying to illicit. "You know that was sarcasm right? Heavy, heavy sarcasm."

"I know..." Derek murmured. "But, do you ever think--"

"No," Jackson snapped.

"You didn't let me finish,"

"You were going to say 'do you ever think you'd be better off without me, or if you hadn't met me, or if I was dead' or something equally stupid." Jackson replied. "And the answer is no, I've never thought that. Look, before I met you I was a miserable piece of shit who never felt like they belonged anywhere, or to anyone. And alright, I'm not delusional, ok? I know things haven't gone perfectly since you came back to town, but none of that is your fault. Turning into the kanima was a freak accident, Matt doing what he did is on him and no one else, and I think we can all agree that the witches and fairies and vampires we fought are also responsible for themselves."

Derek stared up at him, and Jackson places a hand against his cheek. "I agree that misery and destruction seem to follow you around, but you don't create it and you're not responsible for it, alright? I don't blame you for anything that's happened, I never have and I never will. Besides, meeting you, it changed my life. It gave me something I never had before."

"Glowing eyes?" Derek guessed lamely.

Jackson ignored him. "Somewhere to belong."

He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against Derek's mouth. Desperately, and for the thousandth time, he wished he could make Derek understand what he meant to him, and how given the chance he wouldn't do a single thing differently.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Given the chance there was actually a lot he would do differently. But not a single one of those things involved Derek.

"I love you, Derek." Jackson whispered. "Every part of you. The misery and destruction, the pain and every wonderful thing that comes along with it. I want it all, ok?"

He took Derek's hand and squeezed it. "Do you understand?" He asked. Derek nodded slowly. "Good."

 

 


	22. Instinct

_PREVIOUSLY ON “THIS IS A HALEMORE FIC I PROMISE”_

 

_Boyd was in a BAD MOOD and no one KNEW WHY (although popular theory was it had probably had something to do with his evil brain eating sister)._

 

_Lydia thought there might be a connection between ISAAC and JESSY'S ATTACKS. Stiles said he would INVESTIGATE (he had to talk to Jessy anyways, about those weird herbs in her basement)._

 

_Allison talked to her DAD'S COUSIN about CORA AND ALICIA. Catherine said she would set up a MEETING with Allison and VIOLA (who is the leader of Catherine's group, in case you forgot!)._

 

_WORRIED they might be falling back into old habits (IE HAVING SEX TO IGNORE THEIR FEELINGS) Jackson forced Derek to talk ABOUT HIS FEELINGS. God they're so sappy._

 

_Allison and Erica got into a BRUTAL FIGHT with Cora and Alicia. Allison tapped out before SHE COULD KILL THEM, or before they could kill Erica._

 

 

* * *

  
“Intuition is a suspension of logic  
due to impatience. “  
—Rita Mae Brown

* * *

 

 

“Vernon Milton Boyd, why is there a train coming through this kitchen?”

 

“Huh?” Boyd looked up, and saw his mother standing with her hands on either side of her hips. She raised her eyebrow at him, and Boyd got the idea she had just said something to him.

 

“Oh...” It took him a moment to process what she'd said, and he realized she was referring to the way his leg was bouncing up and down under the kitchen table. He stopped. “Sorry.”

 

“Having trouble there?” Boyd's father asked, looking over his shoulder at the homework Boyd was working on. “Oh, I see the problem. Son, I find it helps if you actually _write down_ your answers. But that's just an old man's opinion.”

 

Boyd shook his head, trying and somewhat failing to muster a smile at his fathers jest. “I just can't concentrate,” he mumbled.

 

“It's the smell of the dinner you're making,” Boyd's mother said, nodding to the large mess her husband had made in the kitchen. “I've always said, it's impossible to work on an empty stomach.”

 

“Impossible for _you_ , maybe,” His father said, wrapping his arms around his wife's middle. “But us Boyd men are tough!” He lifted his arm and made a muscle, raising his eyebrows impressively.

 

Boyd's mother did not look impressed. “Alright, then next time _you_ can kill the spider.”

 

The smile dropped off Boyd's fathers face. “You _know_ that's not the agreement,” he said, sounding slightly betrayed.

 

His wife smiled. “That's what I thought.” They pressed their mouths together, still smiling as they kissed.

 

“You know,” Boyd said, gathering up his books. “I think it _is_ the smell that's distracting me. I'm gonna go try and get some work done upstairs.”

 

His parents broke apart, and his mother looked at him. “Won't you still be able to smell dinner from up there?” She asked. “What with the whole... you know.” She waved her hand. “Super senses and all.”

 

Boyd's father looked away. “Theresa...” He muttered. More than his mother, his father had never been one to mention the werewolf issue.

 

“ _Zeke,_ ” His mother retorted. “Look, sweetheart, I know you don't like talking about this—”

 

“—well if you know that then—”

 

“—but he is our son and this is his _life!_ We can't just pretend it isn't!”

 

Zeke Boyd scrunched up his face. “Can too...” he said, very, very quietly. He glanced at Boyd, and—realizing his son had heard him—looked suddenly apologetic. “Vern....”

 

“It's fine, Dad,” Boyd said. “I'm just going to be upstairs. Call me when dinner is ready, alright?”

 

Boyd turned and went up to his room before his father could say anything else to him. At times he some what regretted telling his parents about being turned into a werewolf, but most often he felt it had been the right thing to do. Still, just because it was the right thing did not make it the easy thing.

 

Halfway to his room, Boyd suddenly felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, as a strange feeling went through him. He recognized the sensation as an instinctual indication that something was wrong. Sure enough, a moment later he caught the sent of blood. What was worse, he recognized whose it was.

 

“Erica?!” Boyd called, running up the rest of the way to his room. Allison was with her, and he could tell and they were both hurt, but it was difficult to tell who was hurt worse. He pulled open the door to his room, and found Erica sitting on his bed. She looked bad, but not terrible—clearly, her wounds were already mostly healed—but from the amount of blood on her clothes he knew that what he was seeing now paled in comparison to the damage that had been done. “What happened?”

 

“Nothing, drama queen,” Erica said, rolling her eyes. “Just a small scrap with the kid sisters.”

 

Boyd's eyes widened. Alicia had done this? No, he couldn't forget what he'd discovered—but they didn't know. Alicia couldn't have done this.

 

He looked to Allison, and raised his eyebrows, waiting for the truth. Allison would have less reservations about telling him what had happened.

 

“We were out patrolling,” Allison explained. “We were attacked. The went after Erica this time. It seemed like they were trying to kill her.”

 

Erica made a noise of protest. “Dude, I thought we agreed to keep the explanation toned down!” She exclaimed.

 

Allison frowned. “We never agreed to that...”

 

Erica rolled her eyes. “It was unspoken agreement.” She muttered. “Or it _should_ have been. How would you like it if I told Scott someone tried to murder you?”

 

Allison bit her lip. “I would be fine with that,” She said, not convincingly. “Besides, Scott and I aren't dating, so it's really not the same.”

 

Snorting, Erica cast a look in Boyd's direction, one which said “ _right,_ sure _you're not.”_

 

Boyd's mind went over what Allison had told him, getting stuck on her words. _They went after Erica—tried to kill her—_ A mix of two things went through his mind. Erica had almost been killed. There was pain there, incredible pain. Fear and anger, too. Despair. But there was also, deep down, a sense of vindication. Didn't this prove his theory? Didn't this mean he was right? Somehow, knowing that didn't necessarily make him feel good.

 

“Vernie? Hello? Look, it's really not as bad as Allison is making it seem. It was a _minor_ fight.” Erica was saying.

 

Slowly, Boyd came back to the space around him. “You've fought them before, right?” he asked. “Cora and... Alicia. You guys have fought them a couple times, right?”

 

“Well, sort of,” Erica said, looking to Allison. “I fought them once, a few weeks back. Allison fought them before that, though. Why?”

 

“Did anything seem different this time? Anything at all?” Boyd pressed.

 

Erica frowned, and again exchanged looks with Allison. “Like what?” She asked.

 

“Anything,” Boyd said. “They way they fought, the way they talked—anything at all.”

 

“I didn't exactly have time to stop and ask them if they were doing something different with their hair or some shit,” Erica said. “I was a little busy trying to avoid being killed—”

 

“They were different,” Allison cut in. “Something... a few things, seemed different.”

 

“Like what?” Boyd asked.

 

“Well, a couple things. The way they spoke, first of all. They way the acted.” Allison began. “I've fought them twice before, and neither time did they taunt us the way they did tonight. It seemed like they were _enjoying_ the fight and I never got that impression before.”

 

Boyd's heart began to race, something Erica immediately took notice of. She stood up from the bed and folded her arms across her chest. “Alright, explanation, now.” She demanded. Allison looked confused. “His heart rate just sped up, it's weird. He's being weird.” She narrowed her eyes. “Something's going on.”

 

***  
  


Bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, Stiles waited for Jessy to open the door. He wasn't sure why he felt so nervous. Maybe it was something about directly confronting her about something he found suspicious—and though usually he'd have no problem barging in and demanding someone tell him what they were up to—this was different. He liked Jessy, and he wanted her to like him. He didn't want to ruin that by accidentally accusing her of being an evil witch.

 

Logically, he knew that there was more than likely a very obvious explanation for the herbs in her window; it was part of what her family was doing to hide themselves from hunters. He knew that, and yet here he was, getting ready to interrogate her about it.

 

Maybe this was a mistake. She hadn't opened the door yet, perhaps she hadn't heard him knock—

 

At that moment, the door was of course pulled open, and a smiling Jessy greeted him. “Stiles, wow, what a nice surprise!” She said, standing back to let him inside.

 

“Is it? Are you sure?” He asked, stepping in to her home. “I mean, I didn't catch you during dinner or anything did I?”

 

Jessy shook her head, closing the door behind her. “Nah. My parents are doing this thing where they go on 'dates' every now and then, to like help their marriage or whatever, so I'm just ordering a pizza by myself tonight.” She smiled. “Although now it looks like I have some company.”

 

Stiles nodded and looked around at the house, so that he didn't have to look at Jessy. The smile on her face slipped somewhat. “Is everything alright?” She asked.

 

“Yeah, no—everything's fine,” Stiles said, running his fingers through his hair. “I just... there's a few things I wanted to ask you. And I know it's none of my business, but with everything that's going on we really need to chase down every lead so...”

 

“Ah,” Jessy said. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking somewhat insecure. “What kind of questions?”

 

“Well... like, Isaac was attacked by those girls the other day,” He started.

 

Jessy's eyes went wide. “What? Is he ok? They didn't—”

 

“He's fine,” Stiles broke in. “Freaked out, but fine. See, it's weird because all of their other victims were paralyzed when they killed them. But with Isaac, they didn't bother to do that, and he was able to get away. And we kind of realized that the only other person we know of that they didn't paralyze was...”

 

“Was me,” Jessy finished. Stiles nodded, and she looked away.

 

“You never really told us what happened that night,” He said quietly, taking a step towards her. When she looked back up at him, the look of fear on her face made him want to forget any questions he had. Why couldn't he just spend the rest of the night eating pizza and watching movies with her, cuddling on the couch, being normal kids? Why did there have to be all this other crap between them?

 

“I don't really want to talk about it,” Jessy whispered. “That night... I was so scared. I almost died, and I felt so helpless... if I hadn't run in to you, I don't know what would have happened.”

 

“It's ok, Jessy,” Stiles assured her, putting his hand on her shoulder. He brushed a piece of hair over her ear. “I won't let anyone hurt you.”

 

“I know you won't,” She said, leaning up to press a kiss against his mouth. He breathed in, letting the moment wash over him. For a second he completely forget what he'd come here for. Jessy pulled back, and bit her lip. “I... I just feel so scared all the time, and I hate being alone like this. My parents are always out, and my friends are always busy. I feel like I don't have anyone...”

 

“You have me,” He promised. Jessy gave him a shaky smile. “But I need to know what happened that night. If there's some connection between you and Isaac, some reason you two were singled out... we need to know.” He paused. “And we need to know why you've got a silencing barrier around your basement.”

 

Jessy's eyes went wide. “What?”

 

“When we were looking around your house, Boyd and I found some weird herbs around the basement window, and Boyd realized your basement is kind of a void. No smells, no sounds. And I know it's not because there's mould down there, Jessy. I know you're hiding something.”

 

“Hiding something? What makes you think that?” She asked defensively.

 

Stiles hesitated. “Well, instinct, I guess. But look, whatever it is, you don't need to hide it from me, alright?”

 

“Instinct...” Jessy repeated. There was a look on her face somewhere between shock and betrayal. “Right.” She pulled off from him and turned away.

 

“Hey, come on,” Stiles said. “I just need you to be honest with me. And I need to be honest with you! This is just how I am, alright? I'm suspicious of everyone, basically all the time. It's a shitty way to be, but it's just... in this town, it's hard not to be, okay?”

 

Jessy nodded, and Stiles saw her wipe her eyes. His stomach sank. “Right... ” Jessy repeated. “And here I thought you liked me.”

 

A knife might as well have twisted itself in Stiles' gut. This was going so much worse than he'd imagined, and he'd imagined it going pretty terribly. “Jessy...”

 

“No, it's fine, Stiles,” Jessy said, walking over to her basement door. “You want me to be honest? You want to know what's in the basement? Come on,” She opened the door, and gestured for him to come over. “Don't take _my_ word for it. See for yourself.”

 

Stiles walked over. “It doesn't mean I don't trust you, Jessy, I just—” Suddenly he was tumbling through the darkness, crashing down the basement stairs and landing with a painful thud on the concrete floor. His head spun and ached and his knee throbbed. He had fallen? What had happened?

 

“Jessy...” He mumbled, looking around. At the top of the stairs, he could see her standing there, silhouetted against the darkness. “What...” Lights swam in front of his eyes and the world moved beneath his feet. Had he hit his head? That would explain the pain, he supposed.

 

“Always trust your instincts, Stiles Stilinski,” He heard Jessy say. Just as she slammed the door shut, plunging him into darkness, his head dropped defeatedly to the ground as he lost consciousness.  
  


***

 

Boyd hesitated. He hadn't been planning on saying anything so soon, not before he had proof. But know that Erica knew something was up, he knew he had no chance of deterring her from finding out what he knew. “Alright,” He said slowly. “I'll tell you. But keep in mind, it's only a theory. I wanted to do some more research before I said anything, I don't know the specifics yet so...”

 

“Boyd, just tell us,” Allison said.

 

“I've been adding it all up, over and over again,” Boyd said, taking a seat at his computer desk. “And there's only one conclusion that I keep coming to.”

 

“That none of this bullshit makes any sense?” Erica asked, sitting back down on the bed as well.

 

“Actually, yes,” Boyd said. Erica looked pleased she had been correct. “Nothing of what we know fits together. Which means we're mostly likely missing a very important piece of information. I've been trying to figure out what that is.”

 

“This whole time, we've been operating under the assumption that Alicia and Cora are the killers. But that doesn't make any sense, with what we know about how the victims died. Alicia is an oculus, Cora is a werewolf. Neither of them have any means to paralyze someone with snake venom, or any reason to take a person's brains.”

 

“Are you forgetting the Alicia and Cora literally just tried to kill us?” Erica asked, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, Boyd... I know you want this to not be your sister killing people, but...”

 

“This isn't about that,” Boyd insisted, sitting on the edge of his seat. “Just... just hear me out, alright? Look, last week, Alicia was injured. Almost killed, and as far as we know she has no healing ability, right?”

 

Allison nodded. “Right,” she agreed.

 

“Did she seem injured when you two fought her tonight?” Boyd asked.

 

Erica frowned. “Not really, no...”

 

“And Allison, you said this fight was different. They acted differently then they had before. Last time you fought them, did they only seem interested in going after the werewolves, like they went after Erica this time?”

 

Allison shook her head. “No, actually they usually seemed more interested in... well, me.” She admitted.

 

“But we know the killers are only going after aberrants,” Boyd said.

 

Erica raised an eyebrow. “Going after who now?”

 

Boyd sighed. “Aberrants... it's Stiles' word, for supernatural people. He thought there should be a sort of catch all term. Don't tell him I used it.”

 

“Anyways,” Boyd continued. “There's something else, something I didn't tell anyone, about the night I was attacked. I didn't remember it at first, and then I wasn't sure if it was real but... I'm sure it was now.” He said. “I told you that whoever attacked me came from behind, and then I basically passed out, right?” Erica and Allison nodded. “Well, as I was losing consciousness, I thought I heard someone yell at someone else to get away from me.” He said. “And when we visited Alicia the other day... I knew it was her. She was there when I was attacked, but she protected me. She's the reason I'm alive.”

 

Erica and Allison exchanged looks. “Boyd, are you sure?” Allison asked.

 

“I'm sure,” Boyd nodded. “Who ever is killing people, taking their brains... it's not my sister. I know it's not.”

 

“So you think there's someone else, who does have the ability to paralyze people with snake venom and who looks _exactly_ like Alicia and Cora, running around town eating people's brains?” Erica asked.

 

“I know it sounds far fetched.” Boyd said.

 

“Just a bit,” Allison said.

 

“And you're _sure_ about this?” Erica asked. Boyd nodded. “Alright then.”

 

Boyd raised an eyebrow. “Alright what?”

 

“Alright I believe you, Vernie,” Erica said. “Tell me more. Any idea what these snake people are called and why they need brains?”

 

Boyd looked at her, and in that moment could not have loved her more. Boyd turned to his computer, and turned it on. “I have a few ideas about the snake people—although you would not believe the crazy theories on the internet about that—but nothing on the brains so far.”

 

Allison sighed. “At this point, nothing wold surprise me,” she said.

 

***

 

 

When Stiles awoke, the pain was waiting for him. His head felt as if it had swelled to a thousand times its usual size and he someone sensed that his knee would almost definitely not support him if he tried to stand. And despite the darkness of the basement, and the fuzzy and painful feeling in his head, Stiles knew he was not alone down there. He could hear someone breathing, and thought there may have been more than one person.

 

“Hello?” He called. Somehow his brain was having a hard time processing what was happening. Jessy had pushed him down the stairs and locked him in the basement, it seemed, but he was having a difficult time calculating what that meant. All signs pointed to the obvious—Jessy was evil, and he had been manipulated like a fucking moron and led to his death—but somehow it just wasn't sticking in his mind.

 

Through the darkness, someone made a noise, and they were quickly shushed by someone else.

 

“Who's there?” Stiles asked, waving his arms in front of him and trying to feel around for something. There was something in front of him, a foot from his face. Long and smooth—bars. He was in a cage.

 

“ _Don't say anything, it's probably a trick!”_ A terrified voice whispered.

 

“Hey, it's not a trick,” Stiles muttered, rubbing his head. “I'm pretty sure I've just been kidnapped... again...” He squinted as his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. He could make out a few shapes around him, big square hings... more cages, he assumed. From what he could see there was four including his own, one other attached to the side of his and two more across the room. Three other people sat inside of them, but Stiles could not make out more than their shapes.

 

“We've all be kidnapped,” A familiar voice to his left said quietly. “No one is coming for us, in case you were wondering.”

 

Stiles turned, still squinting through the darkness. His eyes adjusted slowly, and his stomach dropped out from his body, leaving an empty pit where it had once been. He felt ill.

 

Sitting in the cage next to him, her hair dirty and her clothing torn, was Jessy. Through the bars that separated their cages, she glared at him.

 

“We're all going to die down here,” she said.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the previous chapter, Erica and Allison were out late patrolling. Now it's afterwards, and it's dinner time. Yes, this is a continuity error. I am sorry.
> 
> I also apologize for Derek and Jackson literally not being in this chapter at all.


	23. No Matter What

* * *

"I would rather share one lifetime with you   
than face all the ages of this world alone."  
—Arwen, _The Lord of the Rings_

* * *

 

“I don’t know, it’s kind of like… I mean, who can you trust anymore?” Isaac said. Jackson nodded, leaning over the counter and propping himself up on his forearms. “You think you’ve got something good, something real and then bam—it’s just ruined.

“I feel you, dude,” Jackson agreed. He dug his spoon into the bowl of edible cookie dough in front of him. “It’s the worst. We’ve all been there, it just doesn’t get any easier. But it just goes to show you that eventually, everyone and everything will let you down. That’s life.” 

Isaac stared glumly down at the cookie dough. “I just thought it would be different this time...” 

“I have a question,” Derek broke in, staring at them both like they each had three heads. “Are we still talking about the show with all the lesbians in prison?” 

“They weren’t all lesbians,” Isaac mumbled. “Piper was at least bisexual.” 

“Okay...” Derek said slowly. “But that’s what we’re talking about, right? A television show? The conversation didn’t pick up a different subject while I wasn’t listening?”

Jackson sighed deeply. “Yes, Derek, we are talking about a television show. Isaac just caught up, and they killed off his favourite character.” 

“I mean, last season was so much bullshit I figured it just couldn’t get any worse,” Isaac said sadly. 

“Oh, it can always get worse,” Jackson said. “Believe me.” 

Derek was shaking his head. “I just don’t get it. Why does it bother you so much? It’s just fiction, it’s not real.” 

Jackson glared. “Look, life is shitty alright? And sometimes, television helps you escape that. And when the thing you’re escaping to becomes just as shitty as the real world… it hurts. And then you’ve got nowhere to go,” 

“Life is that bad, huh?” Derek asked, coming up behind Jackson and wrapping his arms around his waist. 

“Sometimes,” Jackson said, shrugging. Derek kissed the back of his neck and Jackson did his best to ignore him. 

“I’ve got to go,” Isaac said, looking down at his phone. 

“What?” Jackson asked, somewhat hurt. “Look, we’ll stop if it’s bothering you,” he said. This was Isaac’s home too, he shouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable in it. “I don’t want to chase you out...”

Isaac frowned. “Huh? Oh, no it’s not—Erica texted me,” he explained. “She says Boyd might have a lead on why people have been getting their brains eaten, but he needs the database to check it out.” 

“Oh, okay...” 

“The database is connected to the laptop over there,” Derek said. “Let us know what’s going on when you have a better idea, okay?”

Isaac nodded and went to disconnect the database hard drive from the computer. He grabbed his jacket and was gone. Once he had left, Derek resumed kissing the back of Jackson’s neck. 

“We’ve got the place to ourselves,” Derek mumbled against Jackson’s skin. “Any ideas on how to pass the time?”

“Well, we could do some research of our own,” Jackson said, gesturing over the the pile of books on Derek’s coffee table. “There’s still a hell of a lot to get through, so we should probably do that.” 

Jackson could feel Derek staring down at him, and he tried to keep a straight face. 

“I guess we could do that...” Derek said, very quietly. 

Jackson pressed his lips together, but a small snort of laughter slipped out. He turned around, and found Derek glaring at him. “Oh come on, you couldn’t have thought I was serious,” he said.

“For a moment I wasn’t entirely sure,” Derek said, pulling back. “You’re full of surprises these days, you know.”

Jackson grinned. “And don’t you forget it,” he said, leading him over to the bed. He pulled his shirt over his head and Derek did the same, and they fell back together onto the covers. Jackson wrapped his arms over Derek’s shoulders letting himself get lost in the feeling Derek’s mouth on his. 

Derek pulled back slowly and looked Jackson in the eye. “I love you,” he said quietly. 

“Well, I love you too,” Jackson said, moving in to reclaim Derek’s lips, but Derek stopped him. 

“I just need you to know that. No matter what happens, or where we end up… I love you. I always will.” 

Jackson frowned. “What does that mean?” He asked, moving out from underneath Derek. He looked at him. “Where are we ending up?” 

“Nowhere, I don’t mean—I just mean, if something happens. To me… or to us...” 

“What would happen to you?” Jackson asked, feeling his heart beat quicken. He didn’t like the tone of Derek’s voice, he didn’t like the look in his eye. “What would happen to us?” 

Derek sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nothing, nothing… I just, I don’t know what’s coming, Jackson. I don’t know what the future holds. All I meant is that no matter what’s in store, I just… I love you."

“Whatever happens in the future, we’ll handle it together,” Jackson said. “Right?” 

Derek glanced away. “Of course,” He said. 

“Derek, I swear to god if you’re getting ready to pull the same shit you pulled last year, breaking up with me with some bullshit reason about it being for my own good, I will literally put mountain ash in all of your coffee.” 

Derek rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t do that….” 

Putting his hand on Derek’s chin, Jackson tilted his face up so they were staring eye to eye. “Try me, Hale. Just try me.” 

“Be realistic, Jackson,” Derek muttered, pulling away. “Do you really want to spend the rest of your life with me?” 

“Yes,” Jackson said, feeling a little angry that Derek even had to ask. He was sure they had discussed this before. “Playing for keeps, remember?” 

“I know that, but—”

“No, buts. I’m with you, Derek. For fucking ever. Until we’re old and gross and don’t even want to have sex anymore because we’re too busy watching ‘The Price is Right.’ That’s what I want, with you. Forever.”

Derek looked at him, frowning. “Does it have to be ‘The Price is Right?’” He asked.

“That part is negotiable.” Jackson said. “The rest is not.” 

“I don’t know if you’ve really thought about this, Jackson,” Derek said. “I mean, forever is a long time, and you’re young. You could change your mind… you might want something different, a little down the line.” 

Something like fury began to grow in Jackson’s chest, but mingled with pain and hurt as well. How could Derek think he would just change his mind, and move on, after everything that had happened? Did he really think so little of him, think he was so fickle that he would just wake up one day and want someone else? That it would even be possible for Jackson to feel this way ever again, about someone else? 

Lacking the words to voice everything he was feeling, Jackson simply stared. 

Derek seemed to get the message anyways. “You don’t know what you’ll want,” Derek said, clenching his jaw. “You can’t.” 

“You’re right,” Jackson replied, standing up. “I’m young, and I’ll change. Maybe in a few years, I won’t give a fuck about half the things I care about now. Like, lacrosse or whatever television shows I’m into now, or the car I drive. Different things will come alone, I guess. Better things, maybe.” He grabbed his t-shirt off the bed and pulled it back over his head. “I can’t say what I’ll like tomorrow, or the day after that or next fucking week.” 

“Jackson—” Derek started, standing up and moving after him. Jackson moved back. 

“There’s only really one thing I’m sure of, I guess…” Jackson said, looking at him. “And that’s you.” He walked towards the door, picking up his bag and car keys. “I just wish you would be just as sure about me.”  
  


* * *

Scott paced around his bedroom, turning his phone over in his hands. Glancing down at it, he frowned, seeing only his lock screen staring up at him, with absolutely zero notifications. No new texts, no missed calls… not even an annoying pop up from twitter telling him some celebrity he didn’t care about had tweeted at another celebrity he didn’t care about… 

With a sudden rush of anger, Scott unlocked his phone and deleted the twitter app, which he never bothered to use anyways. No point it keeping it around. 

Looking down at his phone, at the spot where the twitter app had once been, the empty feeling he’d been trying to fight off all day settled firmly in his chest, refusing to be ignored any longer. 

Tossing his phone over onto his bed, where it bounced and landed with a thump on the floor, Scott fought the urge to break something. A window, the door, his bed.... 

After taking a moment to breathe, Scott told himself to chill the fuck out. Breaking something, much like deleting the twitter app, would be a pretty damn pointless thing to do. But unlike deleting twitter from his phone, he would probably wind up regretting that later. 

Crashing down onto his bed, Scott rolled onto his stomach and grabbed his phone from the floor. Still no notifications. He sighed, and turned onto his back. Where the hell was Stiles, anyways? Or Isaac? They never usually went so long without answering him. Stiles, perhaps on occasion. He sometimes got so wrapped up in doing something that he wouldn’t check his phone for hours. So that might explain his radio silence… most likely he was sitting at his computer, phone lost somewhere in his room, scrolling through Deaton’s database in a hyper-focused attempt to solve all their problems in one night. 

Well, Scott should leave him too that, then. That would be the mature thing to do, give him space, let him do his own thing. Stiles was his best friend, his partner in crime. But that didn’t mean he owed Scott every second of his attention, and it wasn’t his job to entertain and distract Scott every time he felt like he was losing his mind. 

Which was often, these days. 

Truth be told, Scott wasn’t even sure what was doing this to him. Was it Cora and Alicia? The hunters being in town… certainly these things were stressful, and just as he was worried for his own safety, he was just as concerned for everyone else. Isaac had already been attacked. Boyd almost killed… they may not have been his pack, in an official sense, but they were as good as. 

Although, in an official sense, Scott supposed he had no pack. He had Allison and Lydia and Stiles, of course… but could he call them pack? He felt like they were pack, but he knew that to have a real pack, you needed an alpha. And he certainly was not that. 

Sometimes he wondered if he was being stupid, to continue to refuse Derek’s open invitation to join his pack. Derek had come along way since they’d met, and he’d become a real leader. Would being part of his pack truly be so bad? He’d be stronger, safer… less alone. 

Somehow though, he just didn’t see it happening. Besides, what would the pack be, by the end of the year? Everyone would be splitting up, going their separate ways. He knew Jackson was staying in town, but everyone else wanted to go as far away from Beacon Hills as possible. 

And it wasn’t just Derek’s pack who wanted that, either. Stiles was looking at school all over the country, Lydia was looking at schools in London and Allison… well, he knew she had plans. Plans to see the world, travel all over and be apart of something big. She was going places… they all were. 

And Scott would be left behind. 

That was it, he supposed. More than the hunters, more than evil brain eating sisters, this was what scared Scott. That soon their group would be split up, and as everyone else moved on to bigger and better things, he would find himself alone. 

Picking up his phone again, Scott sent another text message to both Stiles and Isaac. Then he scrolled through his contacts, wondering who else he could bother. He just needed to talk to someone, have someone tell him he was being an idiot and to calm down. 

Scrolling back to the top of his contacts, he looked at the name ALLISON ARGENT, thumb hesitating over her name. Could he just message her, out of the blue, to hang out? Where they at that point…? It had been so long since they’d broken up… in a way, Scott supposed he had moved on, as he was sure she had. He would have said that he’d entirely moved on, if not for what had happened before their end of year exams. 

They had kissed, and it had brought back so many feelings Scott and thought he’d moved past. But she had run away, and refused to talk about it since… 

He wished he could just ask her what she was thinking, or feeling. Did she want to get back together? Just stay friends? And what did he want? If she wanted to get back together, would he be on the same page? 

It was true, so much had happened since they’d broken up. Sometimes Scott felt like he was a different person, and he thought the same of Allison. She’d always been beautiful and strong, but somehow she’d managed to grow even beyond that. She was a warrior now. No matter how much Scott felt he’d grown, matured… it was nothing compared to what she’d gone through. 

But the fact was they both had grown, through pain and suffering, through impossible trials and by facing unspeakable horrors. They were different people now, different than the love-struck children they’d once been. 

So the question was, were the people they’d become ones who wanted to be together? 

Despite all he said about growing and changing, being a different person… Scott knew his answer. Part of him would always love Allison, he supposed. And a part of him had always held on to the idea that one day they might be able to work it out between them. 

He just didn’t know if she would feel the same way.   
  


* * *

Jackson took a sip of his coffee, and then continued. “And then he says ‘you can’t know what you’ll want, Jackson,’ in this super condescending tone, like I’m a freaking child who changes their mind every two second. Like I’m going to change my mind about  _ him! _ ” 

Across the table, Dr. Kaya regarded him quietly, sipping on her own chai tea latte. She waited a moment to speak, and then set the latte down. “Is this a common occurrence, Derek trying to tell you what you want, or how you feel?” 

Shrugging, Jackson turned the hot coffee cup around in his hands. “Not common, no… but I mean, it has happened before...”

“Last year, when he broke up with you?” She asked. 

Jackson sighed. “I know it makes him sound like an asshole,” he said. “And he’s not, really. He’s not controlling, he just… he thinks he’s bad for me. He always has, and I think there’s a part of him that’s hoping I’ll leave him.”

“I don’t think it makes him sound like an asshole, Jackson,” Dr. Kaya said. She took a sip of her latte. “It does sound somewhat controlling, however. If he loves you, he needs to let you make your own decisions, your own choices. And he needs to accept that one of those choices is him.” 

Jackson looked down at his latte, unsure what to say. He’d called Dr. Kaya up and dragged her out to the cafe mostly with the intention of ranting about Derek and how awful he was, but now that he was here, he had to keep fighting the urge to defend him. 

“Have you talked to him about it?” She went on. “The reasons he thinks he’s so bad for you, or feels the need to pressure you into choosing something else?” 

“A little… I mean, we did talk about it, after the break up incident… which by the way wasn’t entirely his fault, I mean Allison, you know… she sort of manipulated him.”

“In what way?” 

“Well, she told him he was bad for him, that he was hurting me.” Jackson said, shifting in his seat. “And he already thought all of that stuff, so hearing it from another person… it kind of pushed him over the edge, a bit.”

“So you’re saying Allison made him break up with you, tell you he didn’t love you?” 

Jackson hesitated, sensing he was walking into a trap. “Well… sort of.” 

“Jackson, Derek is a grown man. Not to mention, an alpha werewolf. I have a hard time believing anyone can make him do something he didn’t already want to do.” 

Blue flickered in Jackson’s eyes. “So you’re saying he was what, just waiting for an excuse?” Jackson snapped. “That he already wanted to break up with me?”

“No,” Dr. Kaya said, still calm despite Jackson’s anger. “I’m saying you need to stop making excuses for Derek. What Allison did was wrong, I’m not absolving her of that. But it was Derek who decided to listen to what she said, and you need to accept that. Stop letting him off the hook.” 

“I’m not…” Jackson mumbled, slumping back in his chair. “He just.. It’s complicated. It’s not all black and white.”

“Of course it’s complicated,” She said, pushing her glasses up on her nose. “It always is. And I’m not saying Derek is evil and you should hate him, so I hope that’s not what you’re hearing. What I’m saying is that like you, Derek has been through a lot. And the pain that he’s been through in the past is most likely affecting his relationship with you. But if you two want to have something healthy and supportive, then you need to talk to him about this. Explain your side, let him explain his. Tell him you’re there for him, but he needs to let you be. He can’t make your choice for you.”

Jackson nodded. “I just… I don’t know why he thinks he’s so bad for me,” he said quietly. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone, and when I’m with him I feel so...” he struggled for the word. “It’s like, it’s right, you know? It just feels right. And I just wish… I just wish he knew that. Or would let himself believe it.” 

“Maybe he’s trying,” A voice to his left said. Jackson looked over and saw Derek walking towards them. He sat up straight, wondering how much of their conversation he had overheard. 

Jackson looked down at his drink as Derek walked up to their table. “Dr. Kaya, this is Derek… Derek, Dr. Kaya,” he mumbled.

Dr. Kaya was silent for a moment. Jackson looked up and saw her staring up at Derek with her mouth slightly open. “Dr. Kaya?” 

She looked at Jackson, and then raised her fist up to him. For a moment he didn’t understand, and then he got it. A fist bump. Jackson laughed, and raised his fist to meet hers. She smiled at him, and silently mouthed the word  _ “wow.” _

“Do you mind if I take a seat?” Derek asked, apparently unfazed by the therapist’s ogling. 

“Please do,” She said, once more professional. “I’ve wanted to get the two of you together for a while now, so you’re more than welcome to join us.” She looked at Jackson. “Assuming that’s alright with Jackson?” 

Jackson nodded. “It’s fine with me,” he said. 

Derek pulled up a chair and sat down. He looked at Jackson. “I’m sorry about tonight, Jackson,” he said, putting his hand on Jackson’s. “I hate fighting, and I didn’t mean to make you think I wasn’t sure about you. I  _ am  _ sure about you, Jackson. I’m more sure about you than I am about myself.” 

“But I need you to be sure that I’m sure,” Jackson said. “I need you to trust me when I tell you you’re what I want. I know you think you’re wrong for me, that I’d be better off without you but you need to respect that being with you is my choice and you can’t make that for me.” 

Derek nodded. Dr. Kaya looked at him. “Maybe we should should talk about why you think you’re so bad for Jackson?” She asked. “Clearly it’s becoming a roadblock between you two, and if it’s something you need to work on, the best way to do that is together.” 

From the look on Derek’s face, Jackson supposed that option was not entirely appealing to him. “No offence, but I saw a therapist after my family died, and they didn’t help.”

“Maybe they weren’t a good match for you,” She replied. “Therapists are like shoes. You have to try a few on before you find the right fit.”

“Right….” Derek said, glancing at Jackson. “I mean, if you think it would help...”

“It will have to be some other time though, because our hour is almost up,” Dr. Kaya continued, glancing at her watch. 

“What? I thought you said this wouldn’t be a formal session,” Jackson said. “I still only get an hour?”

Dr. Kaya looked solemn. “I’m sorry but the therapy witches only allow me to dispense advice on an hourly basis. After that I turn into a pumpkin.” Derek and Jackson stared at her, and she let out a sigh. “See, this is why I don’t make jokes. Would therapy gods have been funnier, or should I not have bothered at all?”  

Jackson picked up his coffee. “Maybe,” he said. “It’s hard to say.”

She nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Packing up her things, Dr. Kaya said goodbye and told Jackson she would see him at his next appointment. Before she left, Jackson noticed she could not help from giving Derek another once over. 

“I think your therapist was checking me out,” Derek said, after they had paid for their drinks and left the cafe. 

“Oh, you think?” Jackson asked. “Was the fist bump too subtle?” 

Derek nodded. “I guess so.” 

They walked in silence for a few minutes. It was a calm, cool night and they headed into a park by the cafe. The park was more or less empty, save for a few kids hanging around the swings, laughing as one tried to climb to the top of the set. 

“So… you’ve really thought about it, huh?” Derek said, very quietly. He glanced at Jackson. 

Jackson frowned. “Thought about what?” 

Looking away again, Derek stuffed his hands in his pockets. “The rest of our lives, I guess. Spending them together. Maybe getting married...”

“Of course I have, Derek.” Jackson said. “I mean, I thought I’d like to graduate high school before I get hitched but yeah, it’s always been where I’ve assumed we were headed.”

Derek nodded again, but said nothing. 

“But if that’s not what you want...” Jackson began. 

“It’s what I want,” Derek said, grabbing Jackson’s hand. “It’s always been what I’ve wanted.”

Jackson gave Derek’s hand a squeeze. “Alright, good we’re on the same page then. No more of those ‘I love you no matter what happens to us’ crap. From now on it’s just ‘I love you.’”

Derek nodded. “I love you,” Derek said. “And nothing’s going to happen to us.” 

As they walked through the park, hands twined together enjoying the cool night air, Jackson wondered if he’d only imagined the skipped beat of Derek’s heart. 


	24. Trapped

* * *

“What a terrible feeling   
to love someone   
and not be able to help them.”  
 **—** Jennifer Niven,  _All The Bright Places_  

* * *

Stiles rubbed his eyes, uncomprehending. Was he seeing things? How could Jessy be in the cage attached to his, when she’d just thrown him down the stairs only a moment ago?

A million scenarios and explanations raced through his mind, one after the other—evil twins, evil clones, doppergangers, shapeshifters, skinwalkers—but somehow he couldn’t settle on anything. This all seemed somehow ridiculous to him, as if it couldn’t possibly have been happening. He knew Jessy, he’d spent time with her and laughed at her jokes. He’d kissed her, and even almost…

At the same time as he felt it could not be happening, he knew with a terrific certainty that it was. He had been tricked, somehow. The person who had pushed him down the stairs had not been the real Jessy. The real Jessy was glaring at him through the bars of her cage, and by the looks of her she had been down here for a long time. Her hair was tangled and greasy, her face was dirty and her clothes were torn. How long had she been down here? A week? A month, two? An comfortable feeling settled in Stiles’ stomach. Had he ever really known the real Jessy, or had it been the imposter the entire time?

He felt ill. After everything he’d been through, everything he’d seen, part of him felt as if he should have been used to this type of thing happening to him. Oh, the girl he’d been seeing was really an evil demon who’d taken the form of an innocent teenager in order to act out some nefarious plot? Must be Tuesday.

But that wasn’t how it felt. It felt like a punch to the gut, like the floor had been pulled out from beneath him and he’d fallen down a dark and terrible hole in the earth. It felt like he’d been cheated, tricked, conned. Why couldn’t something just have been good, and normal, just for once? Why couldn’t he have kissed Jessy and laughed with her and fallen in love with her and just been a fucking normal teenager for once? Why did it have to be dark and painful, and miserable and end with him in a fucking cage waiting for the thing he’d thought had been a girl he’d cared for come kill him?

Stiles stared through the bars of the cage, and tried to think of what he was going to do. “How long have you been down here?” He heard himself asking. He needed to get a handle on the situation, figure out what was happening. He could spiral out of control and panic later. Now he needed to stay calm and stay smart. 

Jessy snorted, and ran her fingers through her greasy hair. “Uh, gee, I’m not sure,” she snapped. “Let me check my fucking calendar.”

“Jessy, stop talking to him!” One of the voices from the other side of the room hissed. “You can’t trust him!” 

“It doesn’t matter, Mom,” Jessy said, wiping at her eyes. “Don’t you get it? It’s  _ him.  _ The one they’ve been talking about.” She looked at him. “You’re him aren’t you? You’re Stiles?” 

Stiles blinked. Whatever he had been expecting Jessy to say to him, it had not been that. “Um, well yeah… how do you know—” 

“Because it’s the end now,” Jessy cried, tears falling freely down her cheeks now. “Now that you’re here, they won’t need us anymore!” She put her face in her hands and her shoulders began to shake. 

“Oh, Jaybird don’t cry, it’ll be alright,” A different voice, male this time, from the other side of the room tried to comfort. “We’ll figure it out...” 

Shaking her head, Jessy seemed unable to reply. “Jessy,” Stiles said, trying to keep himself calm. “Look, your Dad’s right. We’re going to get out of this. I’ve been in lots of situations like this before, we just need to think—” 

“Don’t talk to me!” Came the screeching reply. “You don’t get to tell me everything will be alright, that we’ll figure this out.” Jessy lifted her head and looked at Stiles with eyes burning with hatred. “You don’t get to say shit when this is  _ all your fault! _ ”

“My fault? How is it my fault?” Stiles asked, taken aback. 

Jessy laughed. It was a sad sound, broken and devoid of humour. “Because all of this, kidnapping us, locking us in cages, pretending to be me… it’s all been about  _ you.  _ We’re going to die, Stiles,” She said, glaring at him. “And it’s all because of you.”    
  


* * *

The next morning, Boyd called a meeting at the loft. He and Erica showed up first, and Allison shortly after. Scott and Lydia were next, and last to arrive was Isaac, who refused to leave his bed until Erica dragged him from it. He stumbled into the room with his hair sticking up on one side, mumbling something about being up late and wanting to die.

Jackson grinned, giving him a once over. “What time did you get in last night?” He asked. He and Derek had already been asleep, and he hadn’t even heard him enter the building. 

Isaac groaned, rubbing his eyes. “So late….” He shook his head. “Coffee…. Where is the coffee...”

“Well, if we’re all here,” Erica said, looking to Boyd. “Fill ‘em in.”

“We’re not all here,” Scott broke in. “Where’s Stiles? Did anyone ever get a reply from him?” 

Erica shrugged, not looking concerned. 

“It’s early, maybe he’s asleep?” Allison suggested. 

Scott frowned. “I guess… still, usually he’d get up for a meeting. This stuff is important to him.” Scott pulled out his phone. “I’m gonna give him another call.”

Everyone took a seat, some on the couches and some on the barstools, and waited for Scott to get in touch with Stiles. They could all hear the ringing, and eventually the call was picked up by Stiles’ voicemail. “ _ Hey you reached Stiles, but not really I guess ‘cause this is my voicemail. You can probably figure out the next part yourself...”  _ The message  _ beeped,  _ and Scott sighed.

“Hey Stiles, it’s Scott… again...” Scott mumbled. “Uh, we’re all at Derek and Jackson’s to talk about.. Well Boyd has something, I guess. Just call me back, ok?”

He hung up, and stared at the phone for a minute. 

“Can we start now?” Erica asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m sure that’s what Stiles would want.”

Isaac snorted, propping himself up on the couch's arm with his elbow. His eyes were closed. “No way, he’d want us to wait for him. He’d be pissed if we started without him.”

Erica glared. “Whatever,” she said. She looked to her boyfriend. “Boyd?”

Boyd hesitated, looking to Scott. “If he shows up later, I’ll go over it again, alright?” He said. Scott nodded, and took a seat next to Allison. “Well… you guys should know, I don’t have anything concrete. It’s just a theory at this point but… I think it has some merit.” 

Derek leaned forward. “What is it?” Derek asked. 

Boyd glanced away, then back again. “Well… “ He began. “I don’t think mine and Derek’s sisters have been the ones killing people. Too many things don’t add up, too many small details are out of place.”

Scott frowned. “Who’s doing it then?” Scott asked. “If it’s not them… then who?” 

Boyd paused. “Shapeshifters.” He said. 

* * *

Staring through the bars at Jessy, Stiles was floored. “Me? How is it all about me?” 

Jessy glared. “What, you think they just threw us in cages and took over my life because it just seemed so  _ neat?” _

“But why… for what? What were they trying to do?” Stiles asked. It didn’t make sense. They wouldn’t have needed to go through all of this to kidnap him. They could have done that at any time. He was only human, after all. 

Jessy was shaking her head, running her fingers through her dirty hair. “I don’t know, I don’t know...”

“Jessy, please,” Stiles said. “Did they say anything to you, about why they did this? I need to know everything you do.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “They… said they needed someone supernatural, someone around your age and someone you would find decent looking—so they picked me.” She opened her eyes. “Could have been anyone, but I guess I drew life’s short straw.”

“But why, why go through all that effort for fucking… for me?” 

“You’re important,” Jessy’s mother said, from across the room. “That’s what they kept saying. That you’re important.” 

It was as if the more information he learned, the less it all made sense. “Important? Why would I be important to them?” 

Stiles saw Jessy’s father shake his head. “Not to them, no, I don’t think that’s what they meant.” He said. “The way they would talk, about how important you were… it never seemed like they meant  _ they _ thought you were important.” He paused. “It seemed like they meant you were important to someone else.”

* * *

As Boyd explained why he thought his sister and Cora were not the brain eating killers everyone had assumed they were, Scott couldn’t help but fidget with his phone. He wanted to listen, to give Boyd his undivided attention, but he was just distracted. He didn’t know why, but he somehow had the sense that something was wrong. He wasn’t sure where it was coming from or what was causing it, but it was growing stronger every minute. 

He wished Stiles would call or text him back, or just show up at the loft with some strange explanation for what he’d been doing all night. Every few minutes he found himself glancing at the door, imagining him walking in saying  _ “You wouldn’t believe the night I had…” _

But he didn’t. 

“Boyd, there a lot of different types of shapeshifters out there,” Derek was saying. “Do you have anything else to go on, any other details that might help us narrow it down a bit?”

Boyd hesitated. “I’ve been looking into the specifics for days, but there’s so much out there, it’s been difficult to narrow down. There’s a type of japanese shape-shifter with different animalistic traits, which could explain the snake venom… but I can’t find a reference to them eating brains. And there’ the indian  _ Naga,  _ which is a snake that can take human form…” 

Boyd rattled on like this for a few minutes, listing various shapeshifters he’d found in the database. Scott got the gist of what he was saying after the first few; as much as there was out there, he couldn’t find anything that ticked off all their boxed. If it shapeshifted and ate brains, it had nothing to do with snakes. If it was a shape shifting snake, then there was no brain mention anywhere. 

Eventually Derek held up his hand to stop Boyd. “I get it, you need something to narrow it down,” he said. 

Boyd nodded. “That would be helpful, yeah,”

* * *

Stiles had lost track of how long he’d been in the cage. His watch had broken when he’d fallen down the stairs, and since his phone was nowhere to be found he assumed the Fake-Jessy had taken it from him when she’d stuck him in the cage. 

He now understood why Jessy had laughed when he’d asked her how long she’d been here; in the darkness, with no way to tell time, it was impossible to measure how much time had passed. It could have been hours and hours… or possibly only one hour. A day? All night? He couldn’t have said. 

However long it had been, it was more than past time to start looking for a way out. 

He went along the bars of his cage, testing for loose spots. Almost every bar was firm as ever, except for one which he was able to loosen. After wiggling and turning until his hands began to chafe and bleed, he was eventually able to wiggle the bar out of place, and create a fair sized hole in the cage. 

Unfortunately the hole led right into Jessy’s cage, which also was not a way out. 

“Brilliant,” Jessy muttered, leaning back against her bars. “Now we can get all cozy together,”

“Jaybird, the boy is obviously try his best,” Jessy’s mother said. “Leave him be.” 

Jessy snorted. “I thought you said we couldn’t trust him.”

Her mother was quiet, and said nothing in response. 

Putting the bar carefully back in place, Stiles began to formulate a plan. 


	25. The Imposters

"I don't need to worry   
about identity theft, because   
no one wants to be me."

—Jay London

Despite the darkness, and his inability to tell time, Stiles was sure he’d been there for at _least_ 12 hours now. Possibly longer. The gnawing, angry feeling in his stomach was telling him how long it had been since his last meal, and he was impossibly tired. Despite the tiredness and hunger, he tried to stay awake.

Jessy was dozing against her bars, but suddenly snapped violently awake. She looked at Stiles with eyes wide with fear. “They’re coming,” she said.

The door to the basement opened with a low creaking noise, and two figures appeared at the top. One carried a box, and they descended the stairs slowly. One of them still looked like Jessy… the other looked like Derek’s sister, Cora. 

Somehow, amidst all of his anger and fear, his feeling of betrayal and his determination to get out, he hadn’t actually put two and two together. This entire time, they’d just assumed Cora and Alicia were the killers, because they’d found them at the first crime scene. But it didn’t make any sense, for a werewolf and an oculus to be killing people like that… this was why. 

They weren’t the killers. The two standing in front of him, smiling at him through his bars… they were behind it all. Killing people, attacking Boyd and Isaac… making them think they were people they weren’t. It was all them. 

“Hey, hun,” the Fake Jessy said, flashing him a wide smile. Stiles felt ill. “Comfortable?” She looked at the Fake Cora, who was holding the box, and nodded to her. Cora opened the box and took out a few containers, which she chucked into the cages. Stiles’ hit him in the head, and he saw the Fake Cora smile slightly. 

Before Stiles could ask what was in the containers, Jessy and her family opened the lids and began to eat the food inside. He supposed it was lunch time. Breakfast, perhaps? It was hard to say. 

“You should eat,” Cora advised him. “I hear last meals are delicious.” She snickered. 

Stiles opened the container and looked down at what might have been meatloaf. “I don’t get a request?” He asked. “Because honestly as far as last meals go, this is seriously lacking.”

From beside him, Jessy shot him a look that very clearly told him to shut the fuck up.

Anger flashed behind Cora’s eyes. “Watch your mouth, dipshit,” she spat. “You can eat that, or you can eat your own tongue when I rip it out of your throat.”

Fake Jessy put her hand on her companion's shoulder. “Now, now, keep calm,” she said. “We want him in one piece for now.” She looked at Stiles. “We haven’t decided what to do with you yet, and I’d like to keep our options open.”

Stiles nodded, but his hunger was keeping him from formulating a witty response. “You do that,” he said, just to have something to come back with. 

The two of them stood around and watched as Stiles reluctantly ate the food before him, which in no manner tasted anything like meatloaf. What it did taste like he couldn’t have said. Only that it was not pleasant. Once they were all finished, Cora collected the containers and put them back in the box. Then they turned to leave. 

“Wait,” Stiles called, hoping to at least get some information out of one of them. The Fake Cora seemed like the loose canon, if he could only get her talking… “I have to go to the bathroom,” He said. 

Fake Jessy smiled, as the real Jessy groaned. “You’ve got a bucket in the corner of your cage,” she said sweetly. Then they left. 

Stiles looked at the corner of his cage, at the bucket he had not noticed before. 

“We’ll all close our eyes if you need us too,” Jessy’s mom said. 

Stiles closed his eyes, and prayed that if they were going to kill him, that they did it quickly. 

* * *

At nine in the morning, a very loud knocking woke Jackson from his sleep. “Whatthefuck—” he muttered. Derek lay next to him in bed, unmoving. “There’s no way you’re asleep, come on,” he said. 

“It’s Scott,” Derek mumbled, turning over. “He’s freaking out. You get the door.”

“Guys!” Scott called through the door. “I can hear you, please just let me in.”

Groaning, Jackson swung his legs over the bed and pulled on his jeans. “I’m coming,” he muttered, trudging towards the door. “Keep your pants on...” 

He opened the door and Scott shot into the apartment, reeking of worry and panic. “It’s Stiles, something is wrong. I called his house and his father said he hasn’t been home for two nights. He got a text from him yesterday saying he was at my house, but clearly he was  _ not  _ at my house so now we’re both worried.” 

Scott stopped, seeing Derek sitting up shirtless on the bed. “That’s weird...” he muttered, before turning back to Jackson, who was pulling on his t-shirt. “We need to do something.”

Jackson stopped. “Why are you looking at me? Look at Derek, he’s the alpha.”

“I would, but he’s like... naked.”

“I’m not naked, I’m in my boxers,” Derek muttered. “Look, I’ve got pants on now, problem solved.”

Scott turned hesitantly back to Derek. “We need to find him.”

“We will,” Derek promised. “Do you have—” Before he could finish his sentence, Scott was thrusting Stiles’ t-shirt in his face. 

“I have one for everyone,” Scott said. “You need to call everyone together, give them one of Stiles’ shirts. We’ll split up and track him down. Assuming whoever took him didn’t cover their tracks with magic, in which case we go plan B and Allison and Lydia do a tracking spell—” 

“Scott, slow down,” Derek said, putting his hands on Scott’s shoulders. “We’ll figure this out. Let’s start slowly. Do you know where the last place Stiles’ went was? Or the last person he talked to?” 

Scott paused. “Jessy, I think. He was going to have a talk with her, about how she got away that night we found her...” 

“I vote we start there then,” Jackson said. “Maybe she can tell us where he was headed when he left, help narrow down the search a bit.” 

“Alright,” Scott said. “That makes sense.” 

“Great,” Derek said. “I’ll get everyone on the phone, have them meet us here and then we’ll head over to Jessy’s. After that, start preparing yourself to sniff Stiles’ dirty laundry,” he said, tossing Jackson the t-shirt. 

Jackson caught it, then grimaced down at the fabric in his hands. This was not going to be pleasant.

* * *

Stiles could admit, that the plan he had was a longshot. It relied on a lot of  “ifs” and “maybes” and there was about a thousand ways it could go wrong. Still, he thought that since it was the only plan they had, that maybe Jessy would show a little more respect for it. 

“That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Jessy said. “It’s never going to work, and you’re going to get us killed,” 

“It might work,” Stiles protested. “Besides, they’re going to kill us anyways. You think if you stay all docile and nice in your cage they’ll let you live?” 

A whimper from across the room told him Jessy’s mother had not appreciated this comment. 

“Sorry,” Stiles said. “But it’s true. We need to figure out a way out, and I don’t see anyone else coming up with a better solution,” 

“He’s right, Jaybird,” Jessy’s father said. “We’ve got nothing else.” 

Jessy shook her head. “Forget it, I’m not helping. The plan is stupid, and if you want to get beaten to death then you help yourself.” 

“Jessy, this plan won’t work without you,” He pleaded. “Please, Jessy,”

“This plan won’t work  _ with  _ me either,” Jessy snapped. ”Because it’s a bad plan.” 

“Jessy—” 

“Stop it!” Jessy screamed shrilly. Her eyes glowed yellow, bright and pulsing in the darkness. “Just stop it!” 

Stiles was taken aback. “Stop  _ what? _ ” 

Jessy gritted her teeth. “Saying my name like that,” She said, her voice steely. “Like we’re  _ friends, _ ” She spat. “Like you care about me. You don’t know me, Stiles. Whoever that psycho is upstairs, she’s not me.”

Looking at her, Stiles found is impossible to protest. She was right, of course. He didn’t know her. The girl he had gotten to know, laughed with and come to care for, she didn’t exist. She was a monster who’d taken the shape of a person, stolen their identity and used it to trick him. 

Despite knowing that, Stiles didn’t think he could give Jessy what she wanted. He  _ did  _ care for her, whether or not he had a right to. He didn’t think he could just turn that off. 

“If we get an opportunity,” Stiles said quietly. “I’m taking it. Whether or not you help is up to you. But at least I’ll die knowing I did everything I could to get out of here.”

Jessy glared at him, but said nothing. A moment later a familiar look of fear came over her face. She didn’t need to say anything this time, he understood; their kidnappers were headed downstairs.

The door opened once more, and the two imposters descended into the basement. “Sti-i-iles, your friends want to know where you a-a-re,” The Fake Jessy said in a sing-song voice. She stopped in front of cage, and held up his phone, where he saw he had almost a hundred missed calls from Scott and his father. Stiles noticed that the Fake Cora was dressed oddly, in boys clothes. Stiles frowned… the clothes actually looked a lot like things he owned…

“I texted your father and told him you were at Scotts, although he know seems to have actually spoken to Scott so that won’t work anymore… Scott is terribly persistent.” Fake Jessy said, looking somewhat annoyed. “Anyways, my guess is it’s not long before they show up here.”

She peered at him as she said this, as if hoping for him to confirm. He kept his face stony, and hoped they couldn’t hear the sound of his heart beating in his chest. His friends showing up was crucial to his plan. Scott knew he’d gone to Jessy’s, it was the first place he would look for him. 

“Don’t get any ideas about them rescuing you, though,” The one who looked like Cora said. “When they get here, we’re going to invite them in, and then you and Jessy are going to apologize for not responding, but you were just busy having crazy sex for the last two nights, that you forgot to check your phones.”

Stiles glanced at Jessy, who looked somewhat appalled. He opened his mouth to say there is no way in hell he was going to cooperate with them, when he realized what they meant. This was, of course, why she was wearing his clothing. He probably should have put that together sooner. 

As Stiles did put it together, the one who looked like Cora began to jerk violently, her back rolling and her arms snapping at strange angles. Stiles’ mouth opened in horror as before his eyes, her hair shortened, the shape of her face changed… and she turned into him. 

Staring at himself, outside of the cage and smirking at him was a very surreal experience. It somehow once more seemed too ridiculous to be real. 

Somewhere above them, Stiles heard the doorbell ring. His stomach flipped. The other Stiles grinned. “That’ll be Scott now,” He said. “I bet he’ll be pretty relieved to find you’re all right. His texts seemed  _ so  _ worried.” 

“Oh, and scream all you want,” Fake Jessy said. “The silencing barrier around this basement means they’ll never hear a thing.”

The two of them turned away, but once more Stiles stopped them. His plan wouldn’t work if they both went upstairs, he needed one of them to stay down here. “You really think he’ll be stupid enough to fall for that?” He asked. “You’re a seriously shitty imitation of the real thing. It won’t work for a fucking second.”

Fake Jessy rolled her eyes, but the one who’d turned into him slowed his step. “You better shut the hell up, asshat,” He snapped, glaring at Stiles. 

“We don’t have time for this,” Fake Jessy said. “They’re already here.” 

“You go, I want to watch this one for a minute,” Fake Stiles said. “Make sure he doesn’t try anything.” 

“Fine, but in two minutes you’re coming up and we’re getting this over with,” She said, heading up the stairs. 

The other Stiles turned and looked at him. “You think you’re real fucking smart, don’t you?” He asked, crossing his arms. “You think they’re going to rescue you, because they’re the ‘good guys’ and that’s what they do.” He stepped closer to the cage. “You’re wrong. Kasumi is going to go up there and convince them everything is hunky dory, and they’re going to leave. And I’ll take your place, and they won’t have a fucking clue that we gutted you like a fish, until we leave your rotting corpse out for them to find.” 

Stiles stared up into his own face, his mind moving at a million miles an hour. “Kasumi...” He repeated. The other Stiles looked surprised for a moment, and then furious at the mistake they’d made. “That’s a Japanese name isn’t it...” There was something there, something clicking together. He knew what they were. “You’re obake, aren’t you?”

Other Stiles recoiled back, hissing violently at him. “Shut the fuck up...!”

“That’s it, that explains it!” He shouted. “Obake are shape-shifting animals… you’re snakes! That’s why all the victims were found with traces of Japanese snake venom in their system.” It all made sense… except the brain eating thing… but if he’d been wrong, the other him across the room wouldn’t be looking like he wanted to murder him. 

Stiles grinned out at himself. “Gee, is Kasumi ever going to be mad at—” 

The cage door was thrown up, and Stiles was yanked out by his shirt. Before he could say another word a sharp punch to his face bloodied his nose, sending pain rioting through his skull. Perhaps this plan had not been the best after all. 

“I’m gonna rip open your head and suck the soul from your skull!” He spat, slamming his fist into Stiles’ stomach, sending him doubling over in pain. Stiles coughed, splattering blood onto his attackers face. He had never imagined his own face could be be so frightening to him, but with the crazed look in his eyes and blood spattering his face… Stiles was afraid. “You’re pathetic, you know that?!” They asked, continuing to beat him. “We’ve watched you for months, and your miserable little life makes me want to cry.” 

Stiles gasped for breath, trying to get away, but their grip was too tight on him and he didn’t have any strength left. All around him was quiet, as the others watched what was happening in total silence. Over the sound of his attackers fist hitting his face, he thought he might have heard Jessy’s mother crying. 

“You’re think you’re so fucking smart,” They said, shoving him to the ground. “But none of you know what’s coming. We’re going to kill you, all of you and as you grow weak, we’ll grow strong.” A kick to the stomach and Stiles was coughing up more blood, practically choking on it… his vision was fading in and out now, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer...

“We—” Suddenly they broke off, and there was silence. Stiles looked up in time to see Jessy by the window. The plants that formed the silencing barrier were in her hand— the barrier was broken. “ _ NO! _ ”

Just before Stiles’ head hit the floor and he lost all consciousness, he heard Jessy let out a blood curdling scream. 


	26. Waiting

* * *

"After you find out all the things that can go wrong,   
your life becomes less about living   
and more about waiting.”   
 _― Chuck Palahniuk, Choke_

* * *

The hospital waiting room smelled unpleasantly like antiseptic, and Jackson was having a hard time concentrating on anything else. He was supposed to be answering the Deputy’s questions, but all he could think about was the fucking smell and how it was driving him crazy.

“Why don’t we go through this again,” Deputy Parrish was saying. Jackson wondered how old he was, and why they would let someone who looked old enough to still be in highschool become deputy. “So you get to the Rosebaum’s house, and go inside—how did you get in?”

“The door was open, we told you that,” Allison said. She’d been fielding most of the questions so far. “We went up to the front door, and it was open just a crack. We thought we heard a noise from inside, like someone calling for help, so we went in.”

Allison had been the first to meet them there, when Isaac, Scott, Derek and Jackson had arrived at Jessy’s home. The door had of course been locked, but they’d knocked and Jessy had answered. Or… the person they’d thought was Jessy.

“Right,” The Deputy said, clearly not believing a word Allison said. “Why would the kidnappers just leave the door open, do you think?”

Allison shrugged, her face giving nothing away.

“And the kidnappers, where were they when you got there?” He continued.

“Gone,” Allison said. “Like I said,  it looked like they’d been gone for a while.”

Deputy Parrish stared at Allison, who stared back, unblinking. He knew she was lying, clearly, and she knew that too. Neither of them said anything for a minute.

The silence was broken by Lydia, who popped up at Allison’s side. “Look, Deputy Parrish,” she said. “Our friend was just kidnapped, this really hasn’t been easy for any of us. I don’t think anyone thinks _we_ had something to do with that, so if you’re not investigating us can we please just go see our friend?”

Deputy Parrish frowned, looking down at Lydia. He sighed, and tucked his notebook into his breast pocket. “Ms. Martin, I’ll be honest with you. You’re right, no one thinks you and your friends had anything to do with Mr. Stilinski's kidnapping, or the Rosenbaum's. But something here isn’t adding up.” He said.

“Stilinski was missing for two days, fine. The Rosebaum’s, however… the people we found coming out of those cages, they looked they’d been down there for months, maybe. But the thing is, Ms. Rosenbaum has shown up to work, Mr. Rosenbaum has been playing golf with his buddies, and Jessy has been going to school. So how could they have all that, and still be in those cages?”

Lydia looked at up at him and answered in a cool voice, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t know,” she said. “But I’m guessing it’s going to be _your_ job to find out.”

To Jackson’s surprise, something about this made the Deputy smile. “I guess so,” he said.

Something about the look in his eyes made Jackson think that this was not the last they were going to see of him.

* * *

It was another hour before Sheriff Stilinski emerged from Stiles’ hospital room, and came out into the waiting room. “He’s awake.” He said. He didn’t say was kind of shape Stiles was in, but the look on his face and the scent of pain coming from him told Scott all he needed to know. “He’s asking for you,” Stilinski said, looking at Scott.

  
Scott stepped forward, but the Sheriff put a hand on his chest. “He needs rest, so you’ve got ten minutes,” He said. Scott nodded, and walked into the hospital room.

Stiles was lying back in his hospital bed when Scott came in. “‘Scuse me for not sitting up,” he muttered, trying to muster a smile. Scott tried his best to smile back, but very much wanted to cry. He had been the one who found him, lying in a pool of his own blood, his face beaten black and blue. He knew how bad his injuries were, but somehow it seemed even worse now that he was cleaned and bandaged up, sitting against crisp white hospital sheets with an IV strapped to his arm.

The reality of what his injuries meant was only truly hitting Scott now, the difference between Stiles and him. That Stiles would be like this, bruised and battered and broken for months to come. His cuts would not heal themselves and his bones would not mend. His cracked ribs would pain him and his broken leg would hurt for who knows how long.

Somehow it seemed so unfair in that moment, that Stiles would be not able to heal as Scott would. Why did Stiles have to suffer through this, take all of the pain and hardship? Why had this happened to _him_ of all people, and not Scott? He would have been fine by now, his injuries a thing of the past.

“Scott, what happened?” Stiles asked. His voice sounded strained, like speaking was difficult.

Scott didn’t know what to say. “I was hoping you could tell me,” he confessed. “We went to Jessy’s house to find you, she let us in… we stayed for a few minutes, she said you would be on your way up any second… then we heard a scream from the basement. Suddenly Jessy freaked out and attacked us, then bolted. Then _you_ came up the stairs, covered in blood… and bolted too.”

Stiles looked away. “It made itself look like me...” he said quietly. “It was going to trick you guys.. Like it tricked me with Jessy… and all of us with Cora and Alicia.” Stiles looked at him. “It was never them killing people, Scott. Cora and Alicia… I don’t think they killed anyone. It was always the ones that kidnapped me. They tricked us… tell Boyd and Derek, okay? Make sure they know… “

Scott nodded. Boyd had been right then, about the shapeshifters. “So… they were going to be you, next?” He said quietly. Stiles nodded. “We would have seen through it,” Scott assured him. He forced a smile. “There’s no way it could have ever been half as annoying as you.” He joked.

Stiles smiled, but there was pain in his eyes. “Scott...” he said, his voice breaking. “Look, they gave me some drugs, for the pain, but… could you...”

Scott lurched forward, placing his arm on Stiles’. He should have thought of that right away, to take away Stiles’ pain. Concentrating, he drew the pain out of Stiles slowly, seeing the relief on his face as it left his body. “Thanks,” Stiles said, his eyes dropping. Scott let go of his arm, and stood back. After looking at his broken friend for a moment longer, he turned and left the room, leaving him to rest. 

Out in the hallway, the fury finally took over. He balled his fist up, trying to keep himself in check. He could feel the shift coming on and he didn’t want to do that here, with so many people around. No one was in the hallway with him but anyone could walk in any moment.

It made him angry, desperately angry that they had done this to his friend. What had Stiles done to them, why had they chosen him? He wasn’t supernatural, wasn’t an aberrant. Why go through all this trouble to mess with him, to kidnap him and brutalize him? His eyes burned, the feeling he got whenever they glowed during his shift, but somehow it was a brighter burning, hotter and stronger than he’d ever felt. If they’d been there he felt as if he could have ripped them apart with his claws.

Taking a deep breath, Scott tried to stay calm. He needed to be calm, to be human. Wolfing out and going on a crazed murder spree would help no one, especially when the people he wanted to hurt could be anyone. They needed to be smart and strategic if they were going to find the ones that did this.

Footsteps approached, and Scott straightened up and looked around. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his mother walking towards him. “Were you just in with Stiles?” She asked, pulling him into a hug. He nodded, afraid that if tried to speak the tears he’d been pushing off would overtake him. “Oh honey, I’m so sorry. I was in with him earlier…” She pulled back and looked him. “Scott, he’s going to be alright. You kids got there just in time. He’s gotten some broken bones and cracked ribs, but he’ll heal and be just fine, I promise.”

Scott nodded once more. He knew that, he was sure of that… but it didn’t make the pain of seeing his best friend like that any easier.

And somehow, although he did not know why, he could not shake the terrible feeling that this was all his fault.

* * *

The plan had gone all wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, complicated, difficult. All of this mess and for what, a ridiculous con? Play his game, those were the instructions. Play his silly game and wait, grow stronger. Carry out his plan to carry out ours. Bide your time until the solstice, when our symbol hangs high in the sky. Then the ritual will be undertaken, and our power will grow even stronger. No more stealing souls, no more hunting like scavengers in the dark.

But the boy, the stupid boy, he had tricked Hitomi. Played to her anger, her recklessness. It had always been her weak spot, _she_ had always said so. And now it had got the better of her. _She_ would be furious. The family had escaped, the stupid human too… it would be harder now, to get to him. Kasumi didn’t really care, that was all _his_ plan… he too would be angry, but Kasumi didn’t care. It was _her_ rage that frightened her. They did not care if his plan failed, not really… but for their plan to work, they needed his to.

It was time to change tactics. Death was good, death was fun. But it was final, complete. Pain however… pain could be drawn out, made to last. Brought back again and again. The young wolf would be feeling pain now, a sharp and terrible pain like a knife.

Now all they had to do was twist the blade.

* * *

To many of the residents in downtown Beacon Hills, the apartment building at 8321 Willard Avenue was not much more than an eyesore. An old, crumbling building that should have been demolished years ago, or at least refurbished. Half the apartments were unoccupied, and the ones that were housed some very strange characters.

Possibly the strangest ones living there were the two girls in apartment 41C. No one was sure when they’d moved in, and several people suspected them to be squatting. No one wanted to ask.  The girls were quiet, kept to themselves, never caused any trouble… but there was something about them that wasn’t quite right.

The landlord had planned once to ask them for rent, but had thought better of it. And what was the point? No one wanted 41C anyways, not after what had happened there. The blood had never fully come off the walls, after all. Let them have it, he decided. That would be his good deed for the decade.

Inside the apartment was organized chaos. Things lay about everywhere, on the floor and on tables but the girls knew where everything was without having to search for it. Most of the mess had been there before they arrived, and they’d situated themselves into it as easily as a chameleon changes its skin.

“But how does it fit together...” Cora mumbled, looking at their wall of pictures. They had everyone on it, all the puzzle pieces tacked up on one wall. She looked over at Alicia, who was sitting cross legged on the floor, mediating. “You get anything?”

Alicia shook her head, without opening her eyes. “You know it rarely works like that,” she said quietly. “I only get flashes, glimpses… nothing solid. A feeling, an image if I’m lucky.”

It was one of these glimpses that had led them back to Beacon Hills in the first place. All Alicia had was an image, and a feeling. She’d seen their brothers, both of them. And she had sensed danger.

And so after so many years on the run… they had come back to the place where it had all started.

Cora shook her head. “Right, of course. You need to be looking at someone to get anything actually helpful,” she said. Alicia opened her eyes and looked at her, and Cora immediately felt bad. “Shit I’m sorry, you know I didn’t mean that.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m just stressed.”

Alicia closed her eyes again. “You think we’re being ineffective. Accomplishing nothing. This is untrue.”

Turning back to the wall, Cora decided not to mention how much she hated it when Alicia read her. “Yeah, we saved Boyd. And that’s great, but what about my brother? Why is he in danger, and how do we stop it?”

“We will figure it out,” Alicia said. “I know we will.”

Cora stared hard at the wall, at the picture of her brother upon it. There was so much she still didn’t know about him, about his motives and the things he did—he was an alpha, but his pack was small. Four teenagers with questionable fighting skills? Alicia said one of them was a former kanima, too. And that they were _involved._  

More pressing than that, why was he palling around with an Argent? Did he not know what the Argents done to their family? Done to _her?_ How could he sit with one of them, work with one of them, _trust_ one of them after all the pain that family had caused.

“You’re worrying very loudly,” Alicia mumbled. “It distracts me.”

Cora rolled her eyes. “Sorry, I’ll try to worry more quietly,” she said.

“Sarcasm does not become you, Cora,” She replied.

Cora ignored her. She looked at the picture of her brother, wishing she could just talk to him, ask him what was going on. But Alicia was right. If their brothers trusted an Argent, especially one that seemed so very similar to Kate… then they couldn’t trust them.   


* * *

After leaving the hospital, Jackson, Isaac and Derek returned to the loft. The idea of having a meeting to discuss what had happened had been mentioned, but no one much felt like it. Whatever the groups varying opinion of Stiles was, no one had wanted this for him, and everyone somehow felt responsible for having let it happen. Jackson had to wonder that if _he_ felt this shitty about a guy he wasn’t all that close to… how would Scott have been feeling? Jackson thought he had a pretty good idea, and he felt for him.

There was nothing worse than seeing someone you loved in pain, and knowing you could do nothing to help them.

When they got back home, Isaac said goodnight and headed to his own apartment. As Jackson and Derek headed into theirs, Jackson could tell Derek was troubled. “What’s up?” He asked, putting his hand on Derek’s arm. “Stiles is going to be okay, you heard Scott’s Mom. He’ll be better in… well, not in no time, it’ll take some time I guess. But eventually.”

Derek nodded, and Jackson got the impression that he hadn’t actually heard a word he’d said. “Derek come on, talk to me.”

Derek blinked, and looked down at him. “Huh? Oh, it’s nothing...” he muttered, turning away.

“Derek, if you’re going to insist on being full of shit, could you please try to do it more convincingly?” Jackson requested.

Nodding, Derek moved towards the bed. “I’ll do that,” he said, lying down.

With a sigh, Jackson lay down next to him. “Alright you have three options,” Jackson said, resting his head against Derek’s chest. “One, I can keep bugging you until you eventually tell me what’s wrong. Two, you can just tell me right now and three, I can stop bugging you and you can bottle this up and stew on it until you feel like sharing. I personally prefer option two, but I will respect whichever you choose.”

There was silence for a moment, as Derek considered these options. “It’s just… Cora,” he said shortly. Jackson supposed this meant they were going with option two. “She’s not the one killing people. Boyd was right.”

“Well, that’s a good thing, right?” Jackson asked, tilting his head up to look at Derek.

“Of course, I just…  I need to find her, talk to her. I have so many questions, and before everything was sort of dwarfed by the fact that she was killing people but now...”

“It’s different,” Jackson finished. Derek nodded. “What I don’t understand is why she attacked us all of those times, if they’re not evil. Why fight then?”

Derek closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’ll add that to the list of things we don’t know,” he murmured.

Jackson decided not to comment on how very, very long that list was growing.


	27. Surviving

* * *

_"Maybe life should be about more  
t_ _han just surviving"_  
—Clarke Griffin, The 100

* * *

Lydia sat up stiffly in the uncomfortable plastic chair, trying to ignore the very annoying noise the plastic seat made every time she moved even slightly. She hated hospitals, hated being around so much death and dying. It was as if she could feel them all, reaching out to her through the walls, seeping into her skin and making her want to scream for more reasons than one.

But this wasn’t about her, this was about Stiles, and so she was going to suck it up.

“It’s very odd at school right now,” Lydia said, as Stiles looked through the history homework she had brought him. “A few people know what happened, to you and Jessy, so I’ve had a few people come up to me and ask how you’re doing.... But mostly everyone’s just concerned about the fact that prom is coming up, and the prom committee still can’t decide on a theme.”

Stiles looked up, and Lydia resisted flinching at how very puffy and blue his face still was. She had brought him some sort of healing potion that Deaton had made special for him, that he said should speed up his recovery, but Stiles was still only human and there was only so much magic they could do.

“What are they deciding between?” He asked.

“Winter Wonderland and Masquerade at Midnight,” Lydia said. “Personally I think I’ll just switch schools if they go with Winter Wonderland, but that’s just me,”

Stiles nodded. “Just tell them to go with the other one, then.” he said, going back to his homework. “You’re the boss, right?”

Lydia hesitated. “Actually… I’m not on the prom committee this year...” she said, trying to sound casual. Stiles’ head instantly snapped back towards her. “It’s not a big deal.”

“But you love being on prom committee,” Stiles said. “You care about this stuff, Lydia. Why give it up?”

Lydia shrugged, opening the notebook in her lap. “It’s not that I don’t care… it’s just I have more important things to focus on right now. I have a lot going on,” Like trying to find out what shapeshifters were doing stealing people’s brains, and why they’d needed to kidnap Stiles, Jessy and her family.

When she looked back up, Stiles was still staring at her. “Lydia, I know you want to find the shapeshifters, or figure out what’s going on,” he said. “I do too, and trust me when I say I know how important it is that we get on top of this. But you can’t… I mean, just because it’s not life or death, doesn’t mean the other stuff doesn’t matter too, you know?”

Lydia sighed. “Stiles, seriously, I may not even go to prom this year,” she said. “To be honest I haven’t had a great track record with school dances.”

“That… is true,” Stiles admitted. “But I still don’t think you should miss your senior prom. You might regret that one day. Besides, the whole pack will be there, and Allison. We can get her Dad and mine to chaperone… it’ll be safe, I swear.”

Lydia raised her eyebrows. “You’re okay with having your dad chaperone the dance?” She asked.

“If it means giving you peace of mind, then yeah, I’m thrilled about it.” He said.

Shaking her head, Lydia couldn’t help but smile. “How about this...” she said. “I’ll go if you’ll go with me, as friends,” she said.

Stiles looked dubious. “Are you sure? You also don’t have a great track record for going to dances with _me._ ”

Lydia raised an eyebrow. “Offer going once, going twice...”

“Sold,” Stiles said, grinning. The smile slipped off his face after a moment. “Lydia…. Thank you,” he said. “I… well, I’d actually been planning to ask Jessy to prom but,” He swallowed. “Since she turned out to be an evil shapeshifter and the real one hates my guts… it’ll be nice to go with a friend,”

* * *

They’d been looking around for an hour now, and Jackson was growing impatient. Maybe if he had any idea what he was actually looking for, it might have been easier to find. As such, Derek had been incredibly unhelpful when it came to specifics.

“Tell me again,” Jackson said, kicking a half-burnt chair out of his way. “We’re looking for what, exactly?”

Derek sighed. “Anything that looks like it may have belonged to an 8 year old girl,” he said.

Jackson looked around burnt up insides of the Hale mansion. “Derek, look around,” he said. “Everything here is completely destroyed. How are we supposed to find anything?”

Ignoring him, Derek turned away, continuing to search. “There has to be something...” he mumbled.

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Oh, I know,” he said. “Maybe this burnt up piece of _something_ used to belong to Cora! Or what about this crumbling whatever it is, that could have been hers, too.” He looked at Derek, who was now glaring at him. “Maybe those ashes by the couch where hers, you never know.”

“You know, this is really a one person job, you can leave if you want,” Derek growled. “I can look by myself.”

“Oh, shut up, I’m not leaving you,” Jackson muttered. “I just think we need a better plan.”

“The tracking spell is our _only_ plan right now,” Derek reminded him. “And to do that, we need something of Cora’s. Now if you have any other idea where we could look--” Derek broke off, and frowned. “Hmm, maybe… would there be anything in the vault?”

Jackson raised his eyebrows. “The vault? What vault?”

“My vault… my family’s vault… I mean, I doubt Cora was exactly keeping her barbie’s there, but maybe my mom or dad put something of hers inside..." 

“You have a secret family vault?” Jackson asked. “What’d you keep there, your family’s collection of gold dubloons?”

Derek gave him a look. “Mostly it’s family heirlooms, things my parents wanted to protect.” He paused. “And a few things I think they wanted to protect others from.”

Despite the years he had known him, Derek’s ability to be the most cryptic motherfucker he had ever met never failed to astound him. “What the hell does that mean?”

Derek shrugged casually, as if everyone’s family had secret vaults filled with dangerous artefacts unfit to see the light of day. “My mom dealt with a lot of different people, travelled a lot.. She came across things sometimes, items with dangerous magic attached to them. Secret rituals she didn’t want people performing, amulets that could cause mayhem in the wrong hands… that sort of thing.”

He headed towards the door, and Jackson followed, rolling his eyes again. “Oh, is that all...” he mumbled.

* * *

 

Hospital food, Stiles decided as he dug into another helping of slimy macaroni salad, was quite possibly the worst part of being hospitalized. Sure, his injuries were painful, and being confined to a bed all day was maddening—not to mention of course, the memories of how he’d gotten his injuries—but the food, that was truly the worst of it. It was bland, it was chewy and it was the exact same thing every single day.

Stiles didn’t know how much longer he could take it.

“How’s lunch?” Scott’s mother asked, entering the room. She was followed by Allison, who gave Stiles that sort of half smile, half grimace he’d been getting a lot lately. The smile/grimace told him that people who saw him were trying to be positive, but that he looked so bad they couldn’t help but grimace. “Still loving every bite?”

“Oh, you know I am,” Stiles said, allowing her to clear his tray away. She took a look at his chart and adjusted something on his IV. “Living the dream here.”

Ms. McCall smiled. “Good to hear,” She said, grinning at him. She was one of the few people that could muster a genuine smile around him. He assumed that was because she was trained to deal with people whose faces looked like they’d been put through a blender.

“Hey, Stiles,” Allison said, taking a seat in the spot Lydia had left only a half hour ago. “How’s it going?” Allison glanced away for a moment. “That was a stupid question, sorry. Obviously it’s not going so great.” She looked back at him. “Are you feeling any better? Scott will be here soon, if you’re in pain. I saw him as I was leaving school, he was headed over here to. I offered to give him a ride, but he’s on his bike so...”

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Scott is coming here? _Now?_ ” He asked. Allison nodded. “No, no way. Tell him not to! Tell him to turn his werewolf ass around and get back to school.”

Allison and Scott’s mother exchanged looks, obviously wondering if Stiles had lost it. Stiles sighed. “He’s been coming to see me every friggin day after school,” He explained. “And to do that, he’s been skipping lacrosse practice!”

Another set of looks exchanged, this time affirming that Stiles had indeed, lost it. “Like you wouldn’t be doing the exact same thing for him?” Allison asked.

“Nope, no way,” Stiles said. “Eye on the prize. Scott is captain of the lacrosse team, that’s huge for us! And now he’s going to screw it up for no reason.”

Allison stared at him. “I seriously can’t tell if you’re joking or not.” She said.

Ms. McCall shrugged. “I’m going to take a guess and say he’s at least 50% serious.”

Stiles smiled. He was of course, not serious. If their situation was in reverse--well, he supposed Scott wouldn’t be in the hospital, if their situations were reversed. But if he was, there was nothing in the world that would stop Stiles from being at his side. And of course, nothing would stop Scott from being with him.

“So, come on, give me the news,” Stiles said, looking to Allison, who raised an eyebrow. “Have there been any new bodies, has anyone heard anything from the obake?”

Allison frowned. “No, no new bodies… have we heard from the who?”

Right, Stiles had forgotten. He’d told them that they were shapeshifters--although apparently Boyd had figured that bit out already--and that they’d been impersonating Cora and Alicia, but he’d never actually told anyone that he’d discovered what they were.

It was funny how almost dying and being incredible amount of pain messed with your memory like that.

Stiles looked up as Scott entered the room, a small package in his hands. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I made a pit stop,” he handed the package to Stiles, who recognized it as a take out container from his favourite pizza and wing place (the restaurant was aptly named “Pizza and Wings”). “Extra spicy,” he said.

Stiles’ eyes went wide. “Scott, I’m going to marry you,” Stiles said, opening the container. The smell hit him, and after days of disgusting hospital food he honestly thought he might cry, it smelt so good. “Seriously, I love you.”

Scott grinned, and shrugged. “I figured you might need something with a bit more flavour,” he said. “The food here isn’t great,”

“Hey,” Scott’s Mom protested. “That’s… well, it’s true, but since I work here I felt like I should say something.”

Scott pulled up a chair and put it next to Allison. “So what did I miss?” He asked.

“Well, Stiles was just about to tell me what an obake is,” Allison offered.

“You mean the Japanese shapeshifting creatures?” Scott asked. “Like kitsune and stuff?” Allison stared at him, obviously somewhat surprised. “I’ve done some research on this stuff too, you know.”

Stiles snapped his fingers, feeling strangely proud of how far his best friend had come, from the scared kid that didn’t know what a lycanthrope was. “Yes, exactly like that. Except these obake are snakes, not foxes.”

“So that’s what they are?” Allison said. “The shapeshifters… they’re a kind of obake?”

“That explains the snake venom,” Scott said.

Allison frowned. “But not the brain eating… unless that’s something obake are known for?”

Stiles shook his head. “I’ve never heard anything about that, but now that we know what we’re looking for, figuring it out should be a lot easier.” He looked between Scott and Allison. “Now we just need to find the right place to look.”

* * *

“You can’t be serious,” Jackson said. “The vault is at the school?”

“Our vault was here first,” Derek said simply, walking up the BEACON HILLS HIGHSCHOOL sign. There was something on the side Jackson had never really noticed before, a sort of engraving or marking. Unsheathing his claws, Derek placed them on the symbol and turned it. The signed began to move, pulling back to reveal a hidden staircase.

“A hidden staircase to a secret vault under the school...” Jackson mumbled, shaking his head. “Dude, that’s weird.”

Derek shrugged. “In comparison to what?” He asked, descending the stairs. Jackson supposed that was a good point, and followed after him.

Inside, the vault was even larger than Jackson had expected, and with the dim lighting making it difficult to see, he couldn’t have even said exactly _how_ big it was. It could have gone on forever.

There were rows and rows of shelves, stacked high with boxes marked with things like “CURSED RUINS, EGYPT” and “ASCENSION RITUAL, KANDARIAN” and several others simply marked with strange symbols Jackson didn’t recognize.

“Jackson, over here!” Derek called. He was looking through a box marked “CORA HALE, AGE SIX.”

“I’m guessing that stuff used to belong to Cora,” Jackson said, striding over. “Great, let’s go. This place is starting to give me the creeps.”

Derek nodded, and took the box. They headed for exit, and went back up the stairs towards the surface. Halfway up, Derek stopped. “Someone’s coming, I hear—” He wrinkled his nose. “Fuck.”

He went the rest of the way up the stairs, Jackson close behind him. He immediately saw why Derek looked so irritated—Peter was striding towards them. That by itself was enough, but he wasn’t alone either. Tom, the lanky boy with the heavy bags under his eyes was in tow, and he grinned when he spotted them.

“Oooh, family reunion,” Tom said, grinning at Derek.

Derek’s lip curled. He ignored Tom and spoke directly to Peter. “What are you doing here?”

Peter pretended to look offended. “Hello nephew, it’s nice to see you too,” He said.

“What are you doing here,” Derek repeated. “And what are you doing with _him._ ”

“Well, we just needed a quick trip into the vault,” Peter said, moving past Derek to the open stairway. “And I see you’ve got it open already, how convenient. Now if you don’t mind—” Peter made to move to the stairs, but Derek put a hand on his chest, stopping him.

“No one outside the family is allowed in the vault,” Derek growled. He glared at Tom, who smiled back at him.

Peter blinked, and looked over at Jackson. “Were you not just inside?” He asked. “Unless his last name is Hale—which makes what you two are doing _very_ questionable—then I don’t see the problem.”

Making to move forward once more, Peter was once again stopped by Derek, who shoved him backward, eyes glowing red. “ _Jackson is family,_ ” He spat. “More my family than you will ever be. Don’t compare him to your plaything.”

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in disdain. “My god, deja vu.” He muttered.

Peter looked at Derek. “We’re going into the vault,” he said. “You can come with, if you want. Supervise, make sure we don’t do… I’m not sure, what is it you think we’re going to do?”

Derek gritted his teeth, and stared hard at Peter. “Fine, we’re coming with.” He relented.

Peter smiled. “After you,” he said, gesturing to the stairs.

All four of them descended the stairs once more; Derek first, followed by Peter, then Tom and finally Jackson. Halfway down, Tom looked over his shoulder at Jackson. “Psst,” he said. “You wanna switch?” He asked. Jackson frowned, unsure what he meant for a moment. “Just for a day or so, try the other one out...”

It eventually dawned on him that Tom meant switch _Peter and Derek._ Jackson’s lip curled in disgust. Before he could answer, Peter beat him too it.

“Tom, I’m not a playing card.” He said, pulling open the metal gate at the vault’s front. “Please stop trying to trade me like one.”

Tom shrugged. “Just a suggestion...” he said, walking through the gates. He looked around for a moment. “But you’re right, it was a silly thing to say.” He looked at Derek, “Peter tells me you’re both too damaged to be with anyone else anyways.”

His words felt like ice running down Jackson’s back. What had Peter said about him? What did Peter _know_ about him? The idea of Peter knowing what had happened between him and Matt, not only _knowing_ about it but been discussing it with people like Tom, made him feel physically ill.

Derek reeled on Peter, who actually took a step back. “ _What the fuck have you told him?!_ ” Derek bellowed. “Mine and Jackson’s business is none of yours and it definitely isn’t any of his!”

“All I said was that you’ve both been through a lot!” Peter protested, putting up his hands as a sign of submission. “Derek, now I never used the work _damaged_ specifically—or said that you couldn’t be with other people, that was Tom’s interpretation.”

Derek stepped closer to Peter, his eyes on fire once again. “Tell me what you told him,” he said, his voice low. “Now, everything.”

Peter hesitated. “Well… that whole business with you and Kate, may have come up...” Peter said. “And Jackson—” Jackson’s heart skipped a beat. “Him being the kanima, killing people that boy Matt wanted dead…”

“ _What else?_ ”

Peter frowned. “What else is there?” He asked.

Derek eased off of him, and looked to Jackson. “Nothing,” he said.

“Peter, this is interesting and all,” Tom drawled, leaning back against a stone wall. “But can we please get what we came for?”

Peter looked between Derek and Tom, and shook his head. “We would have been out already if you hadn’t just started the second Hale Family fire,” he muttered, heading to a shelf near the middle of the vault. He grabbed a box marked “SCROLLS, SUMERIAN” and took it off the shelf. “Tom’s doing his thesis on Ancient Sumeria,” he said. “For his Masters program.”

Derek closed his eyes. “You took him into our family’s vault,” he said. “For a _school project?_ ”

“Hey,” Tom protested. “I’m getting a Masters in Ancient Cultures and Languages,” he said. “That’s more than a _school project,_ ”

“Whatever,” Derek muttered. “Jackson, let’s go.”

* * *

 

Pacing around their small basement apartment, Caroline resisted the urge to bite her nails. Tom was always scolding her about that, what a terrible habit was. She'd tried everything to stop, even that gross-tasting stuff you painted on to remind you not to do it, but nothing worked. Still, she had to be strong. She didn't know for sure something had gone wrong, just had a bad feeling deep in the pit of her stomach. And so what if Tom hadn't answered her in an hour? More than anything it was just likely his phone had died. He was terrible about charging it. 

She told herself all of this, and that it was the logical and rational way to think. And yet she still found her fingers raising towards her mouth. 

Just as she had given in and began to bite the nail on her thumb, the door opened and Tom strode in. "Care, your nails!" He chided, before he'd even gotten into the room. 

Caroline stared at him. "What the fuck, Tommy?" She sputtered, half overcome with rage and relief. "Where have you been, why didn't you answer my texts?!"

Tom just rolled his eyes, pulling off his jacket and flopping down on the mattress on the floor which constituted their bed. "Calm down, my phone died," he said. Of course it had. She could of killed him. "Besides, don't you want to know how it went?"

Glancing away, Caroline tried to pretend she did not in fact care. Tom grinned at her and after a moment she gave in. "Fine, how did it go?" she relented. 

Tom grinned, leaning back against the wall. "Easier than stealing a candy bar from the gas station," he said, nodding towards his jacket. "Check it out."

Caroline grabbed his jacket and pulled out an old scroll from the inside pocket. "This it is?" She asked. "Are you sure?"

He nodded. "It was in the box they'd said it would be," he said. 

"How'd you get it without him noticing?" She asked. 

"That's the best part," Tom said. "I thought I was going to have to find some way to lose him in the vault, or double around or something but when we got there, Derek and that lizard boy he's banging were already there. They were the _perfect_ distraction, I couldn't have planned it better." He looked very pleased with himself. "All I did was make some comment about lizard boy, and Derek threw a fit, almost took Peter's head off. And I just strolled over," He mimed a walking motion with his fingers. "And took it."

Caroline looked down at the scrolls in her hand. They were written in a language that looked meaningless to her, but she wasn't the one who needed to understand it. This was it, the key to everything. Finally, they would be part of something big, something amazing. They wouldn't be on the bottom anymore, wouldn't be weak and pathetic. This would give them everything they'd ever wanted. 

If that was true, then she wondered why she felt so terrible. 

"Tom..." She said quietly, looking down at the scroll. 

Tom sat up, the smile on his face dropping. "No, no no," he said. "I know that look." He stood up and moved to her side, taking her hand in his. "Care, this is what we've been waiting for. This has been the plan from the start. We are not backing out now." 

"But... they've already killed so many people..." she said quietly. "Innocent people." 

"We didn't know they were going to do that," Tom said. "We couldn't have known they needed to feed themselves like that." 

"But we know now," Caroline said.

Tom's face was stony. "Caroline, if we don't deliver this to them, they'll kill us next." he said. "And then they'll take this, and everything will go on exactly the same except we'll be dead." 

"We could destroy it... that would stop their plan, at least. And then maybe they'd leave..." 

"And go kill people somewhere else?" Tom questioned, raising an eyebrow. "Unless you want to kill the three of them, I don't see how we're going to save anyone."

Caroline continued to stare down, saying nothing. Tom put a hand on the side of her face and raised it up until she met his eye. "When this ritual is done, they won't need to feed anymore. The killing will stop." 

Caroline nodded, knowing she would never win this argument. And did she even want to? Tom was right, their options were to follow through, or be killed. And as terrible as she felt, she knew what her choice was. They had always done what they needed to, her and Tom. Always put survival first. And who knew, maybe after the ritual, after the sacrifices... maybe with the power they got, for the first time ever they would be able to do more than survive. 

They would be able to live. 

 

 


End file.
